


Fire on Fire

by elil



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Post-Canon, ahaha a LOT of angst, can I get a yeehaw, its time to pick on grimm!, this had gone an entirely different direction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-02-27 07:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18734764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elil/pseuds/elil
Summary: And so the Nightmare Heart did spake: I want two realms. Grimm, fetch me the dream realm.





	1. if we are nightmare

Completing the Ritual always drained Grimm. So attuned to the Nightmare Realm, the defeat of his dream-self left him physically exhausted. Not that he showed it, cheerfully bidding the bugs of Dirtmouth and the jumpy, tiny Vessel goodbye with a flourish of sparks. He then teleported to the front of the Troupe and led them into the horizon. 

No lantern currently called them, so they were simply searching for a place to settle down until then. They were, after all, also a genuine Troupe with genuine acts. A front for the kingdom leeching bit, sure, but genuine.

“We are sufficiently alone,” Brumm said. Dirt and bits of stray grass whipped in a wind around them. Grimmkin flitted about, cackling at one another and tossing fireballs back and forth.

“Excellent,” Grimm said. He stopped. The Troupe stopped. “I am going to bed. I trust you will manage a forward direction without me.”

“It will be hard,” Brumm said tragically. A nearby Grimmkin let out a dramatic wail. “But I think we’ll pull through.”

He entered the main carriage, crammed with folded up props and supplies but also home to a squashy assortment of pillows and blankets. Hanging in a carriage was simply not comfortable; he’d bonked his head against the side or a crate more than once before finally giving up and arranging some semblance of a bed.

He curled up. After a minute or so the carriage began moving, and he swiftly fell asleep.

* * *

His dreams were usually peaceful after a Ritual, dark and quiet save for the Nightmare Heart beating in the background.

So Grimm could only be _offended_ when he instead was met by the sight of what he guessed was the dream realm, forming an almost perfect line against the nightmare one. Almost, because the dream realm was _leaking_. A cloud lapped against his feet and he took a step back.

The Nightmare Heart hummed. 

“What? This is my department,” Grimm said, gesturing to the red and black backdrop of the nightmare. “That is not.” The bright and fluffy swirls of the dream.

_The Light falls. Both,_ the Heart hummed.

“I vaguely remember something about the two realms being separated an age ago, for reasons.”

_Old decisions. Time for new. Both shall be mine._

“Okay. Well. You’re the boss, so follow your heart-”

A tired groan echoed through the realm.

“- but I don’t see how I can help.”

_Attune._

He waited for elaboration, as one often had to do with the Heart.

_Attune. So the Ritual may feed me in both. Through it, I shall grow._

“That…” Was going to take so much more work! The Ritual was already immensely time consuming. His entire, immortal life sort of time consuming. “Is a lot.”

Red tendrils streaked with black creeped up his legs. A pressure built above him. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying that’s a lot. We’ll need a richer location per Ritual, or they’ll have to alternate which realm they feed.”

The tendrils retreated. The pressure faded. _Attune first. Fret later._

“You’re making me fret! I am also afraid I do not know how to attune to…” he gestured vaguely at the dream realm. “That.”

A tendril snaked into the other realm, collecting clouds and liquid that wobbled oddly. It returned, dropping all this in a shallow depression and forming a sort of pool.

_Bathe._

“In dreams?” Grimm asked, a tinge of a whine in his voice. The Heart beat faster, briefly, and he stepped towards the pool. Touched it with a finger. It sent a strange shudder through him and he took a step back. 

_Enough._ He was pushed into the pool. It was not painful, but it was far from pleasant. He tried to scurry out and he pushed further in, his knees finally buckling. 

Nightmare laced through the pool, intertwining with dream and snaking up his limbs. The pressure continued until his limbs gave out and he was lying in the pool. Nightmare and dream roiled within him and felt like fire. 

The pressure lifted. He tried to stand. The pressure returned. _Stay._

“I-”

_Stay._

“But-”

_Grimm._ The voice was sharp, carrying a rare hint of warning. _I give you allowance because you have served me well for many an age. Do not forget yourself._

The pressure lifted and he forced himself to stay, breathing heavy. His vision grew cloudy and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “My apologies,” he croaked. The cloudiness remained. Perhaps it was an effect of the dream realm.

_Good,_ the Heart hummed. _I have other matters to attend to. I will fetch you when I have further use for you._

The Heart’s presence faded to its usual, background beating. Grimm curled up and shut his eyes.

* * *

“-mm. Grimm! Wake up!” Someone shook him and he groaned. It sounded like Brumm. “Oh thank goodness. You’re not dead.”

“I told you he wasn’t,” Divine’s further voice.

He blearily opened his eyes. Everything was still cloudy, colorful smudges tinted yellow.

“Fuck. Grimm, are you okay? Your eyes are foggy.”

“Can’t see,” he croaked. “Clearly.”

“Did something fall on you? What happened?”

“No.” Hhnn. “I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“Are you?”

No. “Yes,” he replied.

“Grimm is old enough to not need your fretting,” Divine called.

Nnnoo. It was nice. Brumm seemed to ignore her. “If you’re sure,” he said. “Do you want to go back to sleep? I’m sorry I woke you, but we could hear your thrashing from outside.”

Oh. He. Did not. Not even a little. He probably should, though he could always argue it was important to not cause worry in the Troupe. “No,” he said again. He rubbed his eyes and nothing cleared.

Brumm took his hand and helped him out of the carriage. “Is the seat empty?” he asked.

“The—oh, yeah.”

He teleported to the carriage’s driver seat. After a few moments it creaked as Brumm climbed up and sat next to him. 

A moment's pause, broken by Brumm saying, "So, are we going to talk about it, or-"

“Absolutely not. Forward,” Grimm called. Grimmkin cackled, and he leaned back and shut his eyes with a sigh.


	2. if we are dream

He slumped against Brumm and fell asleep again.

He knew he was truly dreaming because he found himself in a massive cave, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of bats and everything with a misty, runed tint. The Heart beat to two different rhythms—one to the Nightmare Realm, one to the dream. He tried to focus on his own heartbeat, but instead of matching the Nightmare it beat erratically with excitement.

Grimm hated proper dreams. He hated when memories he did not wish to recall surfaced in them. He retained his thoughts, but his body would move without his say. It did so now, hooking his talons into the ceiling to scoot closer to the room’s center, ignoring the disgruntled noises of the other bats. 

In the room’s center beat a projection of the Nightmare Heart. At the time, he’d thought it the most beautiful thing in the realm; now he knew this was just a fraction of a fraction of it, as the Heart itself did not move and was indefinitely more of a struggle to behold. 

The bats of nightmare had always worshiped the Heart. They’d never _heard_ anything from it, sure, but its power had always been clear. So for it to appear in their central chamber, calling them to it, had caused a frenzy among them.

Now they all waited with bated breath. Grimm wished his dream would hurry up.

 _My children,_ the Heart said, causing the bats to chitter and shift with delight. Children! They were its children! They’d known it to be true all along! Delight washed over them all. _I have come to bestow upon one of you a great honor._

Many of the bats, himself included, had deflated a bit. There were nobles and priests and warriors of great repute among them; one of them would receive it, not servants or tenders or side-cave performers. Still, all were curious.

Pain was seeping through him. If he was dreaming, then his actual nightmare body was probably still in the pool. Grimm willed his consciousness to return to the Nightmare Realm, but the dream ignored him.

_Each of you will present yourselves to me. After this, I will choose the one who will serve as my avatar in realms beyond, to be my King of the Nightmare, to be reshaped in scarlet fire._

A force held them back. A single bat flew towards the Heart and landed before it. A few moments passed and they flew back to the ceiling. It continued like this for hours. At some point the force lifted and the Heart called him. He flew down.

It was only seconds but it felt like an eternity, the Heart gazing into him and learning far, far too much. “Stop,” he’d hissed.

The already quiet room fell dead silent. Fear had coursed through him. The Heart blinked and dismissed him.

He flew back up to the ceiling, wrapping his wings tightly around himself to try and stop his shaking. The nearby bats shot him bewildered looks. 

Another hour passed before every bat had presented themselves. For a few minutes the Heart was quiet.

 _You,_ the Heart then said to him. _Come._

As he flew down, he imagined everyone had the same thought he had: Oh, the Heart was going to eat this one first. Cool, cool. He landed.

 _From this day on, you shall be known as Grimm,_ the Heart announced to everyone. _You will serve me eternally. My will is to be your will. Do you understand?_

Somehow, despite his terror, he’d found his voice. “Yes, Lord.”

_Then come, and be reborn._

And with that, the projection disappeared. Something called him from beyond the cave proper, and he rose. No one stopped him. They just stared until he was gone from the chamber. A flurry of voices and wingbeats exploded behind him, but he did not stop to listen, focused only on reaching the Nightmare Heart beyond.

The Heart was beautiful. It was also horrifying, the air a deep red around it, its bright red eyes still piercing through the fog. He cast out a net of sound but there was nothing but the Heart, massive, its beating loud in his ears. Ichor dripped into what sounded like a pool below.

 _Grimm,_ the Heart said. He stopped, struggling to hover. There was ceiling but he dared not roost on it. _For ages, I have fed on the nightmares of many a realm. It has sustained me, but still I hunger. In the waking world, dreams, nightmares, memories, collect in waste. You will gather them. I will feast._

“Y- Yes, Lord,” he’d said. 

_Below me is a pool of nightmare and flame. Fly into it. I shall shape you into a form better suited to my purposes._

Uh. No, is what he had thought, though not what he’d said. He flew down. A bubbling pool of red and black was coated in scarlet fire. He did not want to fly into that. The Heart beat above, waiting, expecting. He folded his wings and careened into it. 

He _screamed_ , snapping his wings open, but the pool was thick and he could not rise out of it. Tendrils appeared and pushed him under. Still he burned, screaming stifled by nightmare. Abruptly darkness washed over him.

He’d awoken feeling oddly… contained. He sat up, woozy, at the shore of the pool. He clutched his head and it’d taken a long, long few minutes to process his new form. It was smaller, with more limbs, his wings tattered around him.

 _Good,_ the Heart said. 

Then he was shoved out of the realm and into the waking world; he’d spun around and briefly saw himself, or what he thought was himself, staring with equal bewilderment before the portal closed and he was alone.

The dream faded. Grimm groaned, regaining his senses not with the Troupe but in the pool of dream. Dream and nightmare pushed their way out between the grooves of his shell. They did not _want_ to be together. He swallowed back a cry and bile.

His vision eventually cleared but he felt no better. He did not have the strength to rise, breathing heavy as he was burned from the inside out. He was trying. He was _trying_. After what felt like hours he finally allowed himself a scream.

The Heart’s presence returned almost immediately. _Grimm._ Its voice was soft, not the chiding he’d been expecting. A tendril lifted him out of the pool and he threw up.

“I can’t,” he croaked.

 _You could,_ the Heart said. _Though attuning through what amounts to practically vestiges of dream would take a long, long time._

He shut his eyes. “Fine.”

_I cannot properly claim the Dream Realm without your aid._

“Just put me back in the pool.”

_Hush. I also have no desire to torture you for the hundreds of years it would take for this to work. I have the strongest claim of any god over dreams now. I can afford to wait, to think of a better plan._

The tendril set him on the ground. His legs gave out and it caught him, gently lowering him. _I’m sorry._

An apology? From the Heart? He’d gotten only a few of those over ages and ages. “It’s fine,” he croaked. “I guess you had to test it somehow.”

_Indeed. Return the Troupe to Hallownest. That is where the Light ruled and fell, and so it could be of use to us. If a lantern lights, ignore it._

“O- okay.” He’d never been told to ignore a lantern. He could only hope one wouldn’t be lit any time soon.

The Heart’s presence faded. He woke up.

* * *

“- is _sick_. He’s never been _sick_ ,” Brumm’s voice whispered.

“Mm fine,” he mumbled. He opened his eyes, squinting against the lamplight. 

Actually, no. He was cold and shaky but he forced himself to sit up from the pile of blankets and pillows he’d been moved back to, displacing a rag that had been on his brow. He picked it up. It was cool. “I’m already cold,” he complained.

“No,” Brumm argued. “You’re burning up.”

“You have a fever,” Blossom, a bright green aphid and the Troupe’s healer, said mildly. “Which is unusual for you. Though it is not, despite how Brumm is acting, the end of world.”

“Brumm,” he said. “Tell the Troupe to return to Hallownest.”

Brumm gave Blossom a look that clearly read, “Do you believe me now?” Blossom rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Brumm asked.

“Yes, Brumm, that’s why I said it,” he said testily. Brumm hopped out of the carriage. 

Blossom shook a bottle and held it out to him. “Drink this. You do not seem to be sleeping well, so tell the Heart you are under doctor’s orders to get some actual rest.”

He laughed, it turning into a cough. The potion tasted foul and she traded the bottle for some water, which didn’t help much with the taste. “How long was I asleep?”

“About a week.” No wonder he felt like garbage. “We couldn’t wake you, and you were thrashing and mumbling the whole time. It was… scary, I’ll admit. Are you alright? Your eyes look better. Can you see again?”

“Yes. To both.” She gave him a critical look. “I am. Promise.”

“Alright. Well, try and get some sleep.”

He curled back up, Blossom placing another rag over his temple. “Sleep.” He shut his eyes.

It did not sound like she left, and after a few minutes the carriage began moving again. Weariness won out and sleep washed over him, dark and quiet save for the Nightmare Heart beating in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bats bats BATS BATS-


	3. never to rest

Grimm’s sleep remained undisturbed, a welcome change that finally allowed his dream-self to rest. Even if his physical body was capable of surviving its counterpart dying and being reborn, it left him far weaker than he liked.

He woke two days later, Blossom pressing a hand to his brow and humming, forcing another potion on him before letting him exit the carriage. He grabbed a rope dangling from the roof and climbed up to the seat. 

“Good morning,” Brumm said. “Are you feeling better?”

He nodded. The Troupe was passing around breakfast; Grimmkin and carefully contained flames meant they could cook and eat on the go. The trick was getting said Grimmkin to actually bring you a full plate.

Unless you were Grimm, of course. “I would love some grits,” he told some nearby Grimmkin, who promptly began squabbling over who would retrieve said grits.

“Do I get to know why we are returning to Hallownest?” Brumm asked.

“Because the Nightmare Heart said so.” 

“Hhm. Unusual. Were you arguing?”

“What?” A Grimmkin handed him a bowl and plopped an entire block of cheese into it. He tore off the bit touching the grits and then handed the rest back. They zipped off, cackling.

“You and the Heart. Were you arguing? Is that why you were asleep so long?”

“Uh. No. We don’t really argue,” Grimm said, fishing the spoon out. “We were… discussing plans.”

“What is the plan?”

He smooshed the cheese down to help it melt. “I’ll tell you when I know.”

Brumm grunted but didn’t comment. Grimm ate his breakfast and gulped down a cup of coffee before pulling a charm-making kit from his cloak.

“Are you sure?” Brumm asked. Grimm side-eyed him as he opened the kit. “It sounds like you haven’t gotten as much rest as usual.”

“I’m fine,” he assured. He didn’t know if they’d _need_ a Grimmchild, but it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. It would also distract him—wandering about until a lantern called them was straightforward enough. Returning somewhere, at the behest of a usually quiet Heart? Grimm did not know what to make of it, even if he could understand the Heart’s desire to rule both dream and nightmare. He took out a lump of clay and began shaping it.

He had gotten it just so when dusk fell and the Troupe stopped for the night. “Hhmm. Blossom,” Brumm called. “He’s being bad at resting.”

“I am the Troupe Master here,” Grimm said, his voice tinged with a whine as Blossom clambered up. 

“And I am the healer. You are not empowering that tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to. I was just going to fire it-”

“You are not doing that either. Put the charm in the kit.”

He hesitated.

“The kit,” she repeated, and be begrudgingly tucked it into a small box to protect it from damage before placing that in the kit proper.

“Put it away,” Blossom said, and he put the kit back into his cloak. “Excellent. Now eat some dinner, because I noticed you didn’t eat lunch.”

“I don’t need-”

“Alalalalalalala,” Blossom intoned, until he gave up with a sigh. They all climbed down to join the central fire being built, encircled by bright red tents. The wastes around them had little in terms of tinder, but they had plenty stored away.

Grimm tried to pay attention as the fire was lit and dinner prepared to the Troupe. He could use another distraction, and he prided himself on knowing the members, ever-changing as they were. He would forget most of them, eventually. But not right now.

It did not help that many came up and asked him why they were returning to Hallownest. “Because the Heart wills it,” he said. It was accurate, but offered little, and earned him either mystified or incredulous expressions. He told everyone who joined an admittedly threadbare background of the Troupe. Some believed him. Some took it as fabricated lore to fit the theme. Which they chose did not really concern him.

Blossom handed him a bowl of roasted vegetables and crawlid. “Eat,” she said. He did so, simply listening to the flute being played by one of their newer members, a bee named Azalea.

It did not take long for the Grimmkin to break open the maggot bites, running them on sticks and roasting them over the fire. Grimm made it through three offered to him—sweets were really not his favorite—before excusing himself and retiring to his tent. 

* * *

The next day he fired and painted the charm; the day after he imbued it with just a spark of his power before pocketing it. By the time Dirtmouth lingered on the horizon, a welcome respite from the rolling gray sands, it’d been nearly a week since he completed it. 

“We’ll just set up in the same spot,” he called cheerfully. He walked in front of the Troupe again. “I encourage you all to take this opportunity to test out any new acts! No harm done if they’re flops! And I will find the source of that mead this time. Everyone please take this time to collectively shame the Grimmkin, who drank the entire cask they found and did not share.”

A chorus of boos while the Grimmkin all giggled and twirled happily in the air above.

A needle abruptly buried itself at his feet. In a flash of red, a bug with a smooth pronged mask was before them. Grimm stopped. The rest of the Troupe did the same. The needle was pulled back into her hand.

“Leave,” she said. “I only tolerated your initial presence because of my sibling. Begone.”

Was that a threat? That was a threat. That was so cute! Grimm could not remember the last time any bug had truly threatened him. Not even the tiny, though admittedly fierce, Vessel had. Though he supposed they weren't really a bug. He pulled himself from his sudden musings. “Who was your sibling?”

A pause, and then, “Ghost.”

Ghost… oh! Said tiny Vessel! “They were a lot more welcoming than you. Where are they?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Alright,” he said, holding his hands up peaceably. “We are merely searching for something. And practicing new acts.”

“You have done enough. Go away.”

“I must insist.”

She threw her needle. He was not expecting such aggression and processed this a tad too late, so he was forced to let it hit him, sinking into his shell and sparing the Grimmsteed behind him. 

“Your message is crystal clear,” he assured, suppressing a wince as she pulled it back. The wound healed with a spark of scarlet. “I am afraid we must continue forward, though.”

She dropped into a proper combat stance. He sighed. “I have no interest in fighting you,” he said.

“I have no interest in letting you further defile this kingdom.”

“That’s dramatic,” he said. Probably not incorrect, but dramatic. She threw her needle again. This time he was ready and caught it, tugging. She did not let go of her thread but skidded forward a few steps. He tossed it point-down into the ground; she tried to pull it back and it remained stuck.

“I’m Grimm, by the way,” he hummed, pausing to give a bow as the Troupe passed. 

“Hornet,” she spat. 

“Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hornet will remember that" flashes on the screen.


	4. then tell me, what are we meant to be?

Hallownest felt both more alive and strangely absent. Dirtmouth glimmered blue and gray, a handful more bugs lingering in the streets than before. They chose the same area as last time, and as tents were set up and fires lit Grimm walked the perimeter, intoning a protective spell. He then rummaged through a carriage, placing a bottle of wine and some of Divine’s bright red flowers in a basket before heading into Dirtmouth. As expected, the aptly named Elderbug stood in the town’s center, watching the tents nervously.

“Greetings!” Grimm singsonged. “I know our last appearance made you nervous, so I brought you a gift.”

Elderbug hesitated, then took the basket. “O- oh,” he said. “I suppose… nothing bad had happened… manners are so rare… thank you.”

“Of course! I hope you are more willing to check us out this time. I think you’ll enjoy the show,” Grimm said. The bug murmured something of agreement.

The other bugs were wary, but one beetle pair was encouraged towards the tents by their excited grubling. He did not see Ghost and felt an unexpected stab of sadness; Grimm hoped they were okay, and just off adventuring elsewhere.

A heavy thud drew his attention to the well. The nearby bugs did not seem bothered, but also not entirely at ease. He walked over to the edge.

“Hello?” he called. A huff was his answer and he fluttered down. The last time he’d been here, the crossroads were bubbling with plague—now not a hint of orange remained. 

The Heart _had_ said the Light had fallen. If the infection at been her work, he supposed its absence made sense. 

A massive bug lingered nearby. A crack ran through their mask and they were missing an arm, a cloak he was sure had once been opulent now tattered. They leaned on a worn nail for support.

They limped closer, then looked up the well and chirped. 

“Oh,” Grimm said. “Are you trying to get up?”

They nodded. Grimm studied the well—it really _wasn’t_ made with most bugs in mind. Even the initial jump to sink your claws into some dirt was a tall order. 

Getting down was easy. Up was not. Perhaps that’d been the point.

“I can teleport you up,” Grimm offered. They cooed, which he took as a yes, and placed a hand on their arm. They were clearly frail, shell shaking slightly even as they simply stood there. 

Yet he could still sense their otherness, and at the same time their familiarity. A bigger Ghost, he realized; they must have been the Vessel the Wyrm had decided on for his inane plans. Wandering about in an uninfected Hallownest, perhaps a bit confused but not aggressive. He hoped that was a good sign.

He could also sense that once the Vessel had been immensely powerful, a masterwork of Void and Soul and Light when these things so rarely worked in tandem. They clearly needed a good long rest, though.

In a flash of scarlet they were above ground. The Vessel cooed again and headed towards Dirtmouth proper. Grimm watched them go, and they were quickly cut off by a blur of red.

“No no no no no,” Hornet said, standing in front of them. “How did you even get up here?”

The Vessel pointed at him with their snout and he teleported over with a bow.

“Stay away from my sibling,” Hornet snapped at him. Then, “Hollow, stay _away_ from him.”

A sad chirp. They then looked towards their bright red tents and cooed again.

“No! They are here to insult the memory of Hallownest.”

Hollow pushed Hornet back with their mask and hissed. Grimm got the feeling some variant of “no” was a common phrase from her. They gingerly let go of their nail and signed something he couldn’t quite see. 

Hornet sighed. “I know you’re not a child. I’m sorry. I just…”

They took their nail again and gently booped Hornet’s mask with their own.

“Adorable,” Grimm said, clasping his hands together. Hollow continued towards the tent, Hornet glancing back at him before hurrying after her sibling.

Though the bulk of their Troupe was focused around acts, a handful of members hosted tents for fair games. These were quicker to set up, even if the prizes were all still in crates.

A ticket master sold tickets at five for a geo. Hornet was clearly torn between this being a waste of money and wanting to humor her sibling.

“Here,” Grimm hummed, reaching behind the ticket master’s stall and pulling out a flimsy band with his beaming face on it. He wrapped it around Hollow’s wrist. “My Troupe is my treat. We sell drink! Not very much right now, but ooh, do I have some mead to hunt down.”

He led Hollow to a stand selling frankly cheap, but suitably sparkly ale. He pressed a mug into their hand. Hollow held it uncertainly. Chirped. Hornet followed.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You clearly need a vacation,” Grimm said. They sniffed it, Hornet pulling at her mask. “And besides, us Vessel-types need to stick together, no?”

“Do not bond with my sibling,” Hornet said.

“You are a saint untold,” Grimm whispered to Hollow. The Vessel’s laughter was low and slightly horrifying. They drained the mug.

Grimm offered Hornet one and she sniffed regally. “Oh, the old Wyrm would be so proud,” he said. She snatched the mug out of his hand and gulped it down.

“If you hurt them,” Hornet said, with no change in tone. “I will kill you.”

“Duly noted,” he said. She huffed before sitting at a nearby chair and crossing her arms.

Hollow wandered about before selecting a ring toss game. They were awful at it, but seemed amused by the _ping_ noise the rings made. Hornet relaxed, if only slightly, and Grimm excused himself. With the immediate threat soothed, he figured he should figure out what it was the Heart wanted him to do.

The main tent was almost up, and he helped finish its setup before retreating to his attached room. He clung to the ceiling and flipped upside down.

“We’ll just bring the rest of your stuff in,” a member said. He nodded and shut his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bbuuhh sorry for the delay! This is a "I know what I want to happen starting in a chapter or two" but whOO getting there! Is a process!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and for the kudos/comments!


	5. i heard a call

The Nightmare Heart beat slowly with thought, Grimm watching distant dream coil around nightmare as he waited. The Heart did not make decisions swiftly, patience a trait he’d picked up out of necessity. He wrapped his wings around himself.

The two realms mixed only at the absolute fringes, turning a bright purple. The small portion of dream settled in him still burned, tolerable but a touch too… fuzzy. The scarlet of the nightmare was hot and sharp, small pinpricks of pain he’d grown accustom to ignoring.

 _I sense but a fragment of her Heart,_ it finally said. It beat faster and he perked up from the doze that had threatened to wash over him. _The rest is simply gone._

“Odd,” Grimm said.

_No matter. I can work with a fragment. Find it, and bring me to it._

The Heart had a tendency to make monumental tasks sound simple. “I don’t suppose you have any suggestions on where to look.”

 _No,_ the Heart said. _But I think you do._

He awkwardly shifted his weight. He _did_ , but… “I doubt their sibling will let me investigate such things.”

He also didn’t want to hurt them. He had meant it when he’d said Vessel-types should stick together; he’d had his existential crisis over giving any sense of self over to his god. And that was without having to pretend he was mindless.

 _It’s just a Vessel,_ the Heart said, breaking his thoughts.

Grimm looked at the ground. A few moments of pause before he could force a cheery, ”Of course. I’ll get right on it.”

He turned to leave, swallowing back bile. _Grimm._

He stopped.

_I didn’t mean it like that._

He turned back around. “Of course not. You’d miss me,” he singsonged, not entirely certain of that but clinging to it being true. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so-”

_Dooonn’tttt._

“- grim!” An extended groan from the Heart. “I’ll find the fragment, don’t you worry.”

 _Other gods are stricter,_ the Heart whined as he bowed for emphasis. _Demand tribute-_

“What is the Ritual, if not tribute?

_Politeness, “my Lord”ness._

“I am nothing if not polite, my Lord.”

_No, no, it sounds wrong from you, don’t. Go. Learn a real joke._

“I don’t mean to strain your heart.”

He woke abruptly, Grimmkin quietly unpacking boxes around him. One twirled up to him upon seeing him awake.

“You forgot the wine,” he said, shuffling a bit but remaining roosted.

A horrified gasp, the Grimmkin darting out of the tent. They returned a few minutes with a goblet and a pitcher of wine, Brumm trailing behind them.

“Wine already?” Brumm asked. Grimm ignored him, holding the goblet as the Grimmkin poured him a glass. He took a sip, realized he was just barely not making a mess, and landed on the floor. “Does this mean we have a plan?”

He stared at Brumm for the long moment it took him to take another sip before saying, “Yes.”

“And it is?”

“Rest, relax, be a delightful Troupe, while I try to work out vague god nonsense.”

“Ah,” Brumm said, “So the same as always.”

He took another sip. Now that he thought about it… “Yup. Same as always.”

* * *

“Heyyy,” he said the next day, pressing his fingers together and doing his best to ignore Hornet’s suspicious glare. The two had returned to the now expanded fair, Hollow clutching a grub plushie. It was adorable. He really hoped he didn’t ruin their… everything. “So. I’m looking for the teeny, tiny, really no big deal fragment of heart the Light may have left behind.”

Hollow tensed and emitted a sad coo, instantly bringing Hornet to them. “No no no, it is super, _not_ an issue,” he assured. 

“What isn’t?” Hornet asked. He ignored her.

“Though she no doubt had a previous seat of power, I have no idea where, and, if it’s in you-”

“ _Grimm_ ,” Hornet said.

“- I can remove it!”

“No,” Hornet hissed, clearly catching on. “Ghost killed her.”

Is that what had happened to them? He hoped that meant they were well, though he struggled to see how they could fight her and walk away unscathed.

[I don’t want her to return through me,] Hollow signed. 

“She won’t!” Hornet snapped. They cooed lowly. “I’m sorry. She won’t. Ghost killed her.”

“Gods don’t die so easily,” Grimm said.

“Then Ghost will subdue her, and keep her subdued. They will. The power they command now, it’s…”

An unusual pause. “Terrifying,” she finally said.

[But they are still recovering.]

“And if it’s not there,” Grimm continued. “No harm will be done. Promise.”

“And if it is?” Hornet asked.

“Minimal harm will be done! I will remove it, as I said earlier.”

“And then?”

And then… and then what indeed. He supposed the Heart would… actually, he had no idea. “I will take care of it.”

“How?”

She was a bad as Brumm, asking questions that implied he had an entire plan already. “I will… contain it… within myself until the Heart can deal with it.”

“The Heart? Your Heart? And they aren’t going to just trash Hallownest once they have this power?”

Trash what? he wondered. The crumbling city? The decaying ruins? He did not say any this, suppressing a laugh. “They have plans unrelated to Hallownest. Your… geographical location will be safe.”

Hornet crossed her arms. Hollow chirped. “I will discuss your… plan, with my sibling,” she finally said.

They took a few steps away and turned their backs to him. Hornet spoke in quiet whispers, the bulk of what he heard from Hollow, the Vessel emitting whistles and chirps of varying pitch. After what felt like hours—though he knew it to only be ten or so minutes—they turned back to him.

“Fine,” Hornet said. “But if you hurt them-”

“You’ll kill me. I know.”

“I will _destroy_ you.”


	6. a burning fire

Grimm led them to his personal tent, instructing the Troupe—yes, that means you, Grimmkin—to stay out. Hornet glanced about. Hollow placed their grub plushie on a box before kneeling in front of him. He placed a hand on their mask and closed his eyes. He sent scarlet through them, and they tensed but didn’t move.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice distant even to himself. “It’s going to be a bit invasive.”

A soft huff.

“Yeah, I know, what isn’t with this stuff. Maybe we can go on strike after.”

A low laugh. Barely audible was Hornet’s, “I told you to stop bonding with them.”

Hollow was _tired_. It was the first, most overwhelming emotion he felt as he searched. The Abyss, Ghost, called to them, safe, inviting, _home_. Ghost had tried to reach them but it was too much, too far, they too were so tired.

The Abyss laid open; it would be simple to leave. But Hornet would be alone without them, and though she’d been alone almost her entire life, they sensed she did not wish to be. So they would stay, a weary acceptance nestled in them. 

When he saw himself through them he felt _pity_ , a kinship, another Vessel under the thumb of a god. He did his best to ignore this. Brumm and Blossom were prone to pitying him as well.

A sea of void at least made it simpler to search for anything out of place. Pinpricks of Light, which turned out to be Soul woven by the Wyrm. Seals would form when he approached, not hurting him but clear in their intent to repel him. Which was fine.

He continued, sifting through the Light. Each continued to bring up the Wyrm, and he was starting to believe his guess was wrong. Where else could he search? Hollow brought up a memory of a crumbling statue at the mountain’s peak. That was actually quite helpful. Thank you. A distant chirp.

Still, he knew Hornet would not entertain a later search, and he’d rather not have to fight either of them. He pressed on, forcing himself to meticulously check each source despite his growing exasperation.

Finally, he found what he was looking for—small, truly but a fragment but warmer than the Soul before. He supposed, given how long she’d been contained, it made sense the Radiance’s Heart would linger here. 

It beat slowly and erratically, its pacing not changing when he brushed it with his consciousness. 

Now was the part he’d probably get stabbed for. This meant it was also _physically_ in Hollow, and he’d have to remove it. 

Hollow conveyed something along the lines of having a high pain tolerance. Oh, huge same. Another laugh.

He coated a hand in scarlet fire and plunged it into Hollow’s chest. The Heart's edges were sharp when he took hold of it, cutting into his shell, but he ignored this and ripped the fragment out of them.

He opened his eyes. Void ran down Hollow’s shell and they stumbled back, Soul slowly knitting the wound closed. The fragment was grasped tight in his hand, hemolymph coating it. 

Also as expected, Hornet’s needle was buried in his side. He looked down at it, then at Hornet. Hollow laughed, the _monster_.

“… That’s it?” Hornet asked incredulously.

“Like I said,” Grimm said. “We Vessel-types have to stick together. Do you mind?”

She pulled her needle back, the wound healing with a spark. She eyed the fragment. “And what are you going to do with that?”

Oh. Right. He supposed he could _consume_ it, but he did not want to. He also could not leave it lying about. With his luck, a Grimmkin would take it and play keep-away. Instead of responding he stared intently at it, willing himself to absorb it.

It did not work. He would have to literally eat it. He was not paid enough for this, he thought, sighing loudly before gulping it down. It was at least small enough to do so, even if it stabbed at his throat.

Hornet made a noise akin to “auughplLBLBLB” and then, “ _Grimm_.”

He wrapped himself in his wings and stared at her. “Yes.”

“You _ate_ -”

“How do you think Hollow-”

Hollow bobbed their head.

“- you _ate it_.”

“It’s the easiest way to begin absorbing it,” he huffed. “Dream doesn’t like me.”

“If you become infected-”

“I won’t become infected,” he said. “I highly doubt she’s present enough to even try and exert her influence. And even if she was, she’s being subdued by Ghost, right? She’ll be incredibly weak.”

“She was weak before, and she still brought Hallownest to its knees.”

“It’ll be fine,” Grimm said. He would have pressed it, but he didn’t want to mention he was significantly less likely to have his will broken than the, uh, Vessel immediately before him. It would probably hurt their feelings. “Look, if something happens, you can be the first to stab me. Again.”

“I absolutely will.”

“I’ve gathered,” he said, shifting his weight. His chest was growing… he was usually warm, but now he was acutely aware of it. “That was it. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Hollow nuzzled his cheek before picking up their grub plushie and limping out of the tent. Hornet hesitated for a few moments before running after them.

He sank to the ground, clutching his chest. 

“Grimm?” a voice asked, and he struggled to look up. Blossom peered in. “Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he croaked. His heart was beating. Too fast. Was the Nightmare Heart just excited? Was it the Radiance’s? He wasn’t sure. Scarlet sparked along his shell, healing wounds that didn’t exist.

“You sound strained.”

“Just adjusting.”

Blossom stepped into the tent and reached for him. “Don’t,” he hissed. She pulled her hand back. “S- sorry. I just. Don’t know how safe it is.”

She nodded, crouching nearby instead. He needed to sleep, somehow, he thought, and seek the Nightmare Heart’s aid. 

And suddenly he felt sleepy. Was that bad? No, he wanted sleep. “I’mma just… sleep here,” he mumbled. Blossom didn’t comment as he curled up on the floor.

Sleep washed over him. He was met not by nightmare but dream, off-white clouds glimmering into the horizon. Where was the Heart? he wondered, panic seeping into him. He could sense it but it was so, so distant. He saw nothing but dream and turned.

He barely registered white fluff before the Radiance picked him up by the neck, Grimm clawing at her fingers.

“I should thank you,” she hummed. “What a bittersweet call, nightmare seeped in dream, to pull me from the darkness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back on my bullshit yeEHAW.


	7. forgotten were our own desires

“Ah,” was all Grimm managed in response. He’d meant resisting her whispers, not her, herself, cutting off his breathing and making him horribly aware of how _mortal_ he was in the end. “Hhhhh.”

He teleported out of her grasp. A lance of light ran through him, a horrible, burning pain that then disappeared. He slumped, putting a hand to his chest and wheezing.

“You’re very durable,” she hummed, running another lance through him. He groaned, pulling the lance out and staggering a few steps away. A third. A leg gave out and he fell.

“Ah,” she said as his vision edged black, scarlet flickering. “But not that durable.”

Everything went dark, then was consumed with scarlet. The pain faded, and after a few minutes he took a breath, feeling a bit woozy.

 _Grimm?_ the Heart called. Its voice was so distant. 

_Help._ He didn’t know if it could even hear him. 

“Interesting,” she said, picking him up again. She poked his healed shell, spread a wing. “I’ve never understood the inclination towards Vessels. Oh, I certainly see the appeal—killing you won’t _really_ hurt my sibling. Even if I do it again. And again, until it gives up on you.”

He swallowed thickly. “It won’t.” 

“How sweet. What loyalty. Why, I ask? Do you think it will come and save you? Spare you a second thought when so many are eager to take your place?”

Because he’d served it for thousands of years. He had—he _had_ —to believe that was worth something. “Yes,” he whispered.

She ran him through again before holding him closer. “The Hollow Knight was so certain the Wyrm would return, once word of my plague reached him. And you know what? He never showed up.”

* * *

He hurt, far more than before, each death weighing him down instead of burning away. On the fourth the Heart beat, somehow dimmer, further in his mind despite the cloud of nightmare swelling at the edge of dreams. The Radiance walked towards it, dragging him along. He didn’t have the strength to resist or find his feet.

 _Enough,_ it hissed.

“Aaww,” she said. She stopped some fifty yards away from a streak of nightmare. “You did come to rescue him. Have you gone soft?”

_Release him._

“Hhhmm,” she said. “I don’t know. He’s already won some of my heart, you could say.”

Grimm groaned.

 _This is how your dad jokes make me feel,_ the Heart sniffed.

“I won’t stop,” Grimm whispered.

“I’m trying to have a moment here,” the Radiance said testily. A pause, and then, “Maybe I will give this Vessel thing a try. Have someone else do the work for me.”

_Get your own Vessel._

“I quite like this one. The last one was a bit of an airhead.”

“I’m really not an improvement,” Grimm croaked.

She lifted him and plunged her hand into his stomach. He only managed a strangled cry, the Heart beating faster. Tendrils erupted around them and shimmering barriers kept them at bay.

She clutched at the fragment and pulled it out. Scarlet seared the wound shut.

“You know, the Infection was an accident,” she said. The fragment drifted into her being. “I’d been killed, banished, from my _home_ by an upstart _Wyrm_.”

“I think it is universally accepted the Wyrm was an asshole,” Grimm said. 

“Indeed,” she said. She tilted her head. He did not process what happened. Just suddenly he was again swamped with darkness. 

Not scarlet but off-white light seared through him and he took a ragged gasp. His chest hurt, every breath causing a fresh stab of pain, warming his already burning shell. Dream roiled within, ripping and tearing at Nightmare. His vision swam.

At some point he was dropped. There were voices, garbled and coated by a ringing in his head.

The Nightmare Heart’s presence returned, central in his mind and he clung to it. It did not say anything, warmth beating through him, and for a few moments he felt safe. 

Then it began to retreat— _Ple-_ ”ase,” he cried—until it was gone entirely. He struggled to his feet, the projection and tendrils disappearing in clouds of ash; dream rolled into the horizon. “ _Please!_ ”

He sank to the ground, struggling and failing to control his breathing. He was Grimm, avatar, Vessel of the Nightmare Heart. The Heart would not abandon him. He _refused_ to believe it would, had. It’d come to his aid. Why had it left? Nightmare still coursed through him, the Dream having settled and leaving it be, but he could not sense the Heart at all. 

He could sense the Radiance though, a bright, burning core. 

“Aw,” the Radiance said, patting his shoulder. “You Vessels-types are quite endearing.”

“Leave me alone,” he spat. She hummed, tightening her grip.

* * *

He awoke to grogginess and a pounding headache. He was in his bed but struggled to move. Was he just that tired? No. He shifted a bit more. He was restrained by thick, red cloth painted with white runes. He tried to teleport and was unable to. 

The Troupe surely hadn’t turned on him. How would they even know to? Why? Get a hold of yourself, he thought. He only breathed faster, straining and nearly rolling off the bed.

“- don’t know!” Voices leaked from the main tent and he stilled, straining to hear.

“You should have let me stab him.” Hornet’s voice was crystal clear. 

“He’s already died twice!” Blossom.

“And the last time he came back _infected_.”

“And glowy,” a softer voice, Brumm’s, added.

“Third time’s the charm?” Divine. Hollow’s low laugh.

“Divine!” Blossom.

“The process does have healing properties,” Brumm said.

“Oh! Really! I didn’t notice! With the whole! _Coming back from the dead thing!_ ” Blossom.

“She is not usually like this,” Divine said.

“Just one more stab,” Hornet reasoned.

Voices overlapping, and then Blossom said, “Fine.”

Oh no. Nonononono he _really_ did not want to die again. He struggled, only managing to ungracefully roll off the bed and bang his head on the floor.

“Grimm,” Brumm said, hesitating for a moment before hurrying over and placing him back in the bed. 

“I would prefer you didn’t,” he told the approaching Hornet. Who, in true Hornet fashion, responded by stabbing him. “Ow.”

The wound sealed in a flash of white. “I hate that,” Hornet said, stabbing him again. 

“I am rethinking my decision,” Blossom admitted. After four more stabs Hollow grabbed Hornet’s needle. 

“Thank you,” Grimm said.

Hollow plunged it into his skull, darkness immediately washing over him.

* * *

Through a fog of misty dream, all he heard was the Radiance laughing.

* * *

“Hhhmmm,” Brumm’s voice filtered through. “Still glowy.”

“Brat,” Grimm spat, opening his eyes. Hollow cooed. 

“You’re talking,” Hornet said. “But your eyes are orange. Well. Yellowish.”

“Please unbind me.”

“No,” Hornet said.

“I wasn’t—Brumm. Unbind me.”

Hornet held her needle up to stop him and Brumm ignored her, pushing it aside and cutting through the runed fabric and gently helping him to his feet.

He _was_ glowing, the segments of his shell lit by a soft off-white. He wrapped himself with his wings, which were a few shades lighter than usual.

“How do you feel?” Blossom asked.

That was. A loaded question. Awful! The immediate threat of dying had suppressed it, but that existential crisis was well on its way to returning. What would he tell the Troupe? Would he tell the Troupe? 

The Nightmare Heart had left him. What was he going to do? It had been his entire existence.

Surely it hadn’t truly left him. Nightmare still flowed through him. 

But what if that was just because he needed it as a concept? To hold a form? To be? Because he did! What was he! Going! To! Do! 

What did the Radiance want from him? How safe were his thoughts from her? The Nightmare had never demanded access to them. Would he know if she did? Could she already? He didn’t know.

“Hm,” he finally replied. “I’d really like some wine.”

“That was not the question,” Blossom said.

Okay. He’d just get his own wine. He took a step-

“You can’t go out there,” Hornet said, holding up her needle. This bug was. So frustrating. “Even if you have control of yourself, you _look_ infected.”

Oh. This was actually a good point, which made her even more frustrating. “I would really like some wine.”

“And I’d like you to not be infected!”

“I’m not,” he said. Well. He was. But it was different. “Please. Wine. And leave me alone. Everyone.”

No one moved. He just wanted to _cry_ and drink and try to make sense of the fact that his entire world was falling apart in peace.

“Please,” he said. Hornet did not move. Hollow and Divine exchanged glances. Brumm and Blossom both stepped closer, Brumm’s hand brushing his arm. There were too many, too close, the space was too small.

“Fine,” he croaked. He sat back on the bed and burst into wrenching sobs. 

* * *

“… I’m going to get that wine,” Divine said. Sounds of protest suggested she’d taken Hornet with her. 

The bed depressed slightly, a warm arm wrapping around him. He wordlessly leaned into Brumm’s chest. Something was pressed into his hands and he opened his eyes. It was greenish, soft, and Hollow cooed. Their grub plushie. He clutched it as though they didn’t have twenty more in a crate somewhere.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Blossom asked gently. He shook his head. “Okay.”

He had not gotten a better hold of himself by the time Divine returned, carrying a goblet and a bottle of wine. Two Grimmkin swooped in behind her, each carrying two more bottles. They chirped in alarm, pulling the stoppers out with their teeth and holding out their bottles to him. 

“Please,” Divine huffed, setting her bottle down on the nightstand. She took theirs and placed them down as well, a Grimmkin yanking the goblet out of her hand while another picked up a bottle. They filled it an absolutely indecent, and so emotionally correct, amount.

The Grimmkin were still here. That was a good thing, right? Or would they not be affected? He didn’t know. He gulped the wine down and they immediately refilled it.

Divine and Blossom left, promising to stay nearby and towing Hollow out with them. After another ten minutes of sobbing he asked Brumm to leave. “I just really need to be alone,” he croaked. He also couldn’t bear Brumm seeing him devolve any further.

Brumm gently draped a blanket over his shoulders before doing so, the Grimmkin refilling his glass again before following him out. Grimm clutched the grub plushie and continued to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, slurping my coffee very loudly and not making eye contact.


	8. awash

Each time Grimm thought he’d gotten a hold of himself, a fresh wave of sadness and dread would wash over him and he’d sob all over again. He’d done everything the Nightmare Heart had asked and it’d left him. He was just a Vessel. He was just a Vessel and he could emptied and discarded at a moment’s notice and he’d been stupid, _stupid_ , to think the Heart had cared for him.

At some point he ran out of wine. He’d hoped the haze would bring him solace but it just made him horribly aware of how absent the Heart was, of how present the Radiance was. He got to his feet, swaying and pacing the room. He’d loved the Heart, given it everything and more. If he had had hopes or plans before it had chosen him, he could not remember them. He could not even remember what his name had been. 

He paced and hiccuped and chewed a claw to the quick, finally allowing himself a _scream_. The lanterns went out, chest heaving as he gulped air between sobs. He rubbed his eyes and sank to the ground.

“Grimm,” a soft voice said. Blossom stepped into the room and crouched in front of him, a lit lantern in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. 

“I- I’m s- s- sorry,” he said.

She set the lantern down, retrieving his discarded goblet and refilling it. He accepted it with shaking hands. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “But I’ve _never_ seen you like this, Grimm. Emotionally, I mean. What happened?”

He clutched the goblet, staring into the vibrating liquid. Pale yellow reflected in it. “I… the Heart…”

She gently squeezed his arm. “Is it hurt?”

“No,” he spat. She tilted her head. “N- no. I’m s- sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. The Heart…?”

“Left,” he croaked. She blinked. “Me. It. The R- Radiance w- was there. Then i- it. Then it l- left.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “It left you with the Radiance?”

He nodded.

“You can sense it though, right? Take me with you, I’ll give it a piece of my mind.”

He shook his head. “Left. Can’t. I’m not,” he managed a gulp of air. “I’m n- not it’s V- Vessel anymore.”

Her grip tightened ever so slightly. “That’s absurd, Grimm. That’s your whole thing.”

“I _know_ ,” he wailed, fresh tears running down his face. “I c- c- can’t sense it! It just _left me_! Cut o- our connection!”

“Okay,” she said again. “I see now why you are so upset.”

“I’m stuck w- w- with _dreams_!”

“Sshh. Drink your wine, and enjoy the fact this is the only time as a healer I’m going to okay that,” Blossom said. He gulped it down and she refilled it. “Why would it leave you?”

“Worthless,” he hiccuped.

“That doesn’t seem to fit the whole ‘having you as its one Vessel’ for so long. You died physically. Did it kill you?”

He shook his head, rubbing an eye. “T- the Radiance did.”

“Okay. Well, everything I’ve gathered from her makes her sound like a brat-”

He managed a small laugh.

“- that likes to mess with bug’s heads. Maybe she did something to you.”

That… offered a flicker of hope he wasn’t sure he could handle having smothered later. He’d died multiple times back-to-back and was seeped in dream. Maybe she _had_ done something to his mind.

But maybe she hadn’t. He had been bound to the Heart for thousands of years; what could she possibly do in such a short amount of time to sever that? He bit into the quick and was finally aware of the pain, hissing; Blossom pulled a bandage from her satchel and wrapped it. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

She squeezed his hand. “Listen. Even if the Heart has left you, you still have the Troupe.”

“I don’t want to get them tangled in whatever the Radiance has planned,” he croaked. His throat hurt and his eyes burned. 

“Then you won’t. But listen. You’ve offered more bugs than I can count second chances at a life over the years. You are the most _dramatic_ bug I’ve ever met—and frankly I can’t say I wouldn’t be the same way—but a good one. We’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Fresh tears burned and sleepiness pulled at him. He did not want to sleep. He was afraid to sleep. He’d never been afraid of _sleep_. “Truly.”

The Heart had abandoned him.

He wanted to cry all over again.

He took a shaky breath. “I’m… very… drank… a lot.”

Blossom patted his arm and took the goblet. “Yes you did. Congratulations on your bolstered metabolism. Do you want to sleep it off?”

“No,” he mumbled. 

“I’ll find you a cloak, and you can come eat dinner with the Troupe. Okay?”

He’d long lost track of time. Was it night of the same day? Tomorrow? He did not know.

And no. Oh no. No. They’d all at the very least heard his scream and saw the lanterns going out. “I’m not… I’m not ready to. Explain.”

“No explaining will be needed. Promise.”

He nodded. She left, returning a few minutes later with an oversized red cloak. She helped him adjust the hood, then took his hand and led him out of the tent. A handful of lanterns had been lit again.

“Let me _go_ , you _ingrate_.” Near the central fire, Divine sat atop of a wiggling Hornet. Hollow was roasting marshmallows nearby with some Grimmkin, pulling a freshly burnt one off their stick and offering it to Hornet. She sighed and slumped. Hollow cooed.

Blossom sat him on the bench next to Hollow, Brumm scooting to sit at his other side. A Grimmkin handed him a bowl of stew topped with burnt marshmallows. Every time a Troupe member would approach Blossom would intercept them, speaking too softly for him to hear, until no one else did. 

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. 

“It is fine. Eat,” Blossom replied.

A soft babble of conversation and music picked up shortly after. He felt another urge to cry, one he suppressed with a spoonful of stew. Hollow pointed at his burnt, stew-soaked marshmallows. “You can have them,” he said. They plucked them out with gusto.

He supposed, Hollow and Brumm pressed up on either side of him, he did not feel any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, cackling at the comments on the last chapter. <3 As always, thank you all for reading!


	9. aglow

Grimm stalled for as long as possible, but his building drowsiness meant he barely made it to morning before he gave in. Roosting required an ounce of coordination he simply did not have, instead collapsing in bed and curling under his cloak.

Quiet met him, uncomfortable after so long of being met by a beating Heart. He blearily opened his eyes.

He was curled up on the ground, off-white and glimmering, a wing held up and its underside being tapped against. He shifted a bit and tried to fold it close; the hand holding it tightened its grip. 

He looked out. It was just an endless expanse of dream, the Radiance next to him, staring into the horizon. After a long minute she sighed and let go, and he shakily got to his feet and wrapped himself in his wings.

“Thank you,” the Radiance said.

He felt his entire mind just stop. _Thank you?_ He’d been prepared for a thousand things and this was not one of them. He waited for her to elaborate. This, at least, was familiar.

Except she did not, instead spreading her wings and lazily rising in the air. He watched, still at a lost. After a few minutes she slowly drifted down and landed again. “You can speak, you know. I’d gathered you are quite the chatterbox.”

“Why?” he croaked.

She blinked, wiggling her feathers a bit. “Speak? I’ve been told social interaction is healthy, and often facilitated by speech.”

What.

“And, for reasons, I have been quite socially deprived. The inane screaming of a broken Vessel is just _not_ good company. I’ve had the same headache for hundreds of years.”

“N- no. I mean. Why? Why not make your own Vessel?”

“Oohh,” she said. “Yes. I imagine this has all been quite hard on you, what with the Nightmare Heart abandoning you.”

He took a shuddering breath. She didn’t have to just. Say it. Why would she just say that? “Unless it didn’t.”

She tilted her head and he tensed. “You can believe whatever you want,” she said. 

Her words offered nothing. Her tone offered nothing. He lifted a claw to chew it and then lowered it. Don’t act like a grubling, he told himself.

“But to answer your question: Because I needed someone who could harness nightmare and walk through dream. You’ve been using my sibling’s power for thousands of years and were in the process of attuning yourself to my realm. It was an easy decision.”

“To do what?” 

“When I was sealed away, so too were my closest subjects. The Wyrm was not the first to grant bugs sentience. That said, I limited it to my most favored. They were bound by Nightmare, banished to and shrouded by various parts of Dream. I am not attuned enough to the nightmare to sense them through this dream and, even if I did find them, I am not certain I would be able to break the seals. But you could.”

“I can’t… I can’t sense the Heart,” he mumbled.

“Not the Heart. Nightmare in general. You are simply used to using the Heart as your focus.”

Grimm supposed that made sense. He hugged himself tighter. He supposed the Heart wouldn’t have agreed to help; it had been trying to take over the Dream, after all. Not that he’d have been happy to, given what she’d done to Hollow, but still.

“I… we got off on the very wrong foot,” the Radiance said. “I’d been sealed away for so long, then dragged into the Void by…”

She trailed off, then shook herself. “Void. I was certain my demise was at hand when I felt a spark, calling me. An escape I never expected. I was desperate, and then I saw you, my sibling’s Vessel, and I knew what that meant it was planning and I realized what it could mean for me and I… overreacted. You were just doing what you’d been told.”

“For all the good it did me,” he muttered.

“It will be a fun new adventure for us both,” she hummed. “Now, off you go.”

Wait. What? Just like that? He stared.

She placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him forward a few steps. “Off you go,” she repeated.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” he said. 

“Pinpricks of nightmare. Please do not make me repeat myself, I find it irksome.”

“What am I supposed to do when I find them?”

“Something magical, I imagine.”

“Why would the Wyrm even use Nightmare? Wasn’t his own thing Soul and Void?”

“Because we’re polar opposites. Are you going to be like this the _whole_ time? Stop asking questions. Go.”

She gave him a shove and he stumbled. He shook himself and took a steadying breath. She said nothing else and he closed his eyes.

He sensed nothing but dream, save for a distant, but massive swelling of nightmare to his right. He supposed the other realm was that way, then, even if it felt wrong without the beating of the Heart. 

Grimm walked forward, resisting the urge to glance back at the Radiance. He supposed she could cast her gaze wherever she wished within dream. Would she track him? Why not come _with_ him? He could just saunter off to the Nightmare Realm.

He. He could just saunter off to the Nightmare Realm. The Heart did not _move_. He could go see it. Yell at it. That sounded real nice, actually. Maybe he _would_ bring Blossom so she could yell at it too. 

He forced himself to keep walking until he was certain he was out of her immediate gaze. He then turned towards the Nightmare Realm.

Did she truly just expect him to listen? He supposed, if the bulk of her experience was with Hollow, yes. Not that he’d ever _denied_ the Heart, but he was at least whiny sometimes. 

He paused to pull at his face. “I’m just as bad as Hollow,” he muttered. He was whiny sometimes? That was it? He was getting a chill just thinking about how _angry_ the Radiance would be if she found out what he was doing. Maybe he should just- no. No. Get a backbone, he scolded himself.

The nightmare still felt distant, though it made sense she’d want to put distance between herself and her sibling. He glanced around, did not see her, and continued walking.

* * *

The Heart projected Itself into the cavern, washing the stone in Its red glow. The few bats roosting nearby fell, catching themselves with furious wingbeats. They said words It did not bother to hear. 

_Bring the others to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Places Grimm on my shelf of "beans I love and so must punch in fic."
> 
> Can I just stop writing chapter summaries lmao.


	10. alone

_Where,_ the Radiance hummed in his mind. _Do you think you are going?_

Grimm stopped, wrapping himself in his wings. He had been walking for… he did not know. A good while, enough that his already worn out dream-self was exhausted. “Towards nightmare.”

_Ah, yes. The entire Realm. Very subtle._

“Well,” he reasoned. “What if one of them is along the edge?”

_An excellent point. I will search along the border, and summon you should I find one. Continue elsewhere._

He stared in the direction of the Realm. Perhaps it was merely his desperation playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw flickers of scarlet through the clouds. Probably not. He sighed and hugged himself tighter. A pressure nudged him further into the Dream Realm.

“Okay,” he mumbled. He took a few steps and stopped again. The pressure returned. “ _Okay._ I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

_You were asleep._

“That only rests my physical self. I need to really sleep.”

 _This is why I avoided Vessels,_ she muttered, as though all this wasn’t her fault. _Needy things. Fine. Sleep._

He glanced around. Dream was, for the most part, a sea of clouds with little shape; perhaps it had fallen apart in her absence. He…

Was suddenly beyond exhausted. He sank to the ground, struggling to keep his eyes open.

 _I thought you wanted sleep,_ the Radiance said grumpily.

“I don’t need your help,” he hissed. 

Sleep less washed over him so much as it felt his head was shoved underwater and into darkness.

* * *

His sleep was dark and oddly cold. The Radiance’s presence was like a singular spot of warmth, one he found himself drawn to despite the part of him that wanted to resist. No dreams or memories bothered him, but the closer he got to her warmth, the more _aware_ he felt. Worries and thoughts bubbled when he really, really just wanted to stop thinking for a bit.

She’d ruined everything. The Heart had abandoned him. Nothing was to stop her from doing the same. He would prefer she did; he’d wanted to serve the Heart. He did not want to serve her. What would he do otherwise, though? He supposed he’d inevitably find out. He did not want to. His role as a Vessel had become his entire existence. 

He had the Troupe, he tried to argue. It was a front, though. But genuine. He could just lead the Troupe. Devote more time to Brumm and Divine and Blossom and maybe actually convince more bugs to stay full time. It’d be nice. 

New fears bubbled through. Would he become properly mortal? What would happen when he died? What would happen when he _slept_? If the Heart had left him—and the Radiance later, inevitably, did the same—would he still be able to walk the Realms? Would they shun him entirely, place him in some limbo? Would he sleep like other bugs? Maybe he would eventually lose his form. Would he become a bat again? Would he just cease to exist? 

He woke with a start, gulping air. Clouds lazily rolled over his form.

 _Oh good,_ the Radiance hummed. 

He did not feel particularly rested, shakily getting to his feet. “W- what about the Troupe? Surely it’s been at least a few days, I need to-”

 _You need to do what I say,_ the Radiance snapped. A horrible warmth built in him and he bit sharply into a claw. The warmth faded.

“I will,” Grimm whispered. “But the Troupe-”

_I imagine they will get on just fine without you._

“But-”

_Silence. You will stay until your task is complete._

A heaviness settled in his throat and he swallowed back tears. Another push nearly knocked him over, and he wrapped himself in his wings to try and still his shaking as he walked, closing his eyes and trying to sense pinpricks of nightmare. 

* * *

Bats flooded into the chamber and roosted around It.

 _I require your aid,_ It said. They chattered noises of affirmation. 

Minutes of quiet passed. A bat detached himself from the ceiling to fly closer, hovering. “With what, Lord?”

Yes.

Details.

It hummed, shutting Its eyes for a moment.

_I’ve lost Grimm. He was stole from me by Dream._

An immediate chorus of concern. Questions of how and why and when and where and It ignored them. Eventually, quiet fell again.

 _Come,_ It said. _I will imbue you with Nightmare._

It pulled Its projection, directing a pull of nightmare towards the caves. It would take them some time to reach It.

With this time It mulled. It did not often do such things. Hubris and regret were the folly of other gods, not It, eternal and unmoving. 

But what was It experiencing now if not both? It had known Its sister was likely alive, if barely. It had known Dream would never truly obey It, the discord the two together caused the reason for their separation so long ago. It had known all of this and persisted still, and the cost had been Its only friend.

It had overestimated Its sight. It had agreed to sever Its bond with Grimm so the Radiance would cease killing him; It had never sensed Grimm so frail and feared at some point, It would not be able to revive him. It had hoped It could reassure Grimm even with the caveat of silence, but his _Please_ haunted It.

It had hoped to track Grimm and then pull him back into the Nightmare Realm when the Radiance was distracted. Instead, without Grimm’s strength aiding Its sight, It had immediately been blinded by Dream. It could not pierce the Radiance’s veil, a grim— _ugh_ , now It was doing it—reminder that though they were siblings, she was far stronger. 

Bats appeared and swarmed around It. It reached out, giving them all a sliver of Its power. Too much and they could not fly through Dream, but It needed a way to sense them.

Still, a sliver each added up. It had spent so long pooling strength, hoarding what the Ritual gave It, and now It found Itself reaching into these reserves. Still, if It had to deplete them to save Grimm, then so be it.

_Go. Scourer Dream and Nightmare. Bring Grimm home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c The Heart would never y'all.


	11. once there were others

Clouds rolled at his feet but there was no breeze. It was quiet, broken only by his own breathing and the soft _hawh_ glimmers in the air would make when he brushed them. It was neither hot nor cold, The Radiance's burning present in his mind the only source of warmth. The landscape was flat with not a single hill or mountain or canyon, no updrafts from pools of ichor or flame that allowed even his tattered wings flight--things he'd grown accustom to in nightmare. He had thought dreams were supposed to be welcoming, but instead he found them distant, even oddly ambivalent. 

He had long lost track of time. Exhaustion weighed at him but he could not sleep, worry frayed his nerves but he could not wake. He could only hope the Wyrm had left seals and nothing else, because Grimm did not have the strength to fight anything proper. Would the Troupe be okay? Of course they would, he scolded himself. Perhaps even better, without him to bind them to Ritual after Ritual... there were no more Rituals. Or would there be, ones bound to dream? He suppressed the building urge to cry.

Eventually he sensed a pinprick of nightmare and turned to follow it. He was not sure if he'd gotten any closer when he finally had to stop, curling up on the ground and shutting his eyes. 

_Sweet Sol,_ the Radiance muttered. _Do you really need to sleep again?_

He ignored her, sleep washing over him. Her Light remained dominant, though he did his best to stay away from it, and finally a blissful nothingness took hold.

* * *

Grimm woke feeling significantly more put together. Not better, but together. He still could not force himself awake, and with a small sigh he continued forward.

He was not prepared to stub his toe on a brick.

He cursed, taking a step back and wincing. He crouched down, squinting; there was a cream-colored brick that shimmered slightly simply lying on the ground. He huffed and picked it up. Broke it in half. Nothing happened, and he rolled his eyes before tossing the pieces on the ground.

More and more appeared as he traveled, until they were forming broken posts and properly embedded in the ground and creating a pathway. This led to piles of rubble that led to crumbling walls. He followed one to an archway, which overlooked a road cutting through where were once, he supposed, homes. Cream and blue banners were draped over the stone, tattered and unmoving.

Had all this decayed in the Radiance's absence? Would the same happen to nightmare, should the Heart fall? Surely she had not been gone long, given the massive timeframe gods operated in. Yet, as he gingerly brushed a banner, he supposed it'd been long enough. Nightmare had bats and sprites and firesongs; he'd seen nothing in dream. What had been lost? Thousands of years and he'd never given dream this much thought. 

The hint of nightmare led him further into the village. He picked his way through the glass of shattered, massive structures and into a large building. A part of the roof had collapsed in, but the bulk of it still stood. 

The same could not be said for the interior. It had, perhaps, once been a library, but the shelves were empty and they themselves faded; when he reached a hand out it went through them. "I hate this," he muttered. At least she hadn't left her silencing spell.

The nightmare was below him, and it took a bit of searching to find a staircase. He quickly learned the stairs were not all solid, and he cursed as he fell through one, hauling himself back up. He glided down the rest of them.

He snapped his fingers, balls of scarlet flame drifting through the room. It was larger than he'd been expecting, but empty. He frowned at the walls. he could sense nightmare in front of him, and he placed a hand on the stone. Where was...

 _Behind_ the wall? He dug his claws into the bricks and pulled, it not taking much effort to pull them free. His claws brushed something soft, and after a few minutes he had pried away enough to reveal a light yellow moth spotted with white, encased in bright seals and nightmare.

The moth blinked at him with big, dark eyes, then broke into a coughing fit that he could not hear. It passed and the moth blinked wearily at him, eyes beginning to slide shut and slumping a bit. A seal lit and he woke. 

Grimm hesitated, then reached for the seals. They were not as strong as he'd been expecting and he burned through them. The nightmare recoiled and the moth flinched as it tightened around him. He tried to dismiss it and it ignored him. He grabbed the nightmare and pulled and it did not give. 

"To," the moth croaked. "Day."

"I'm trying," Grimm muttered. He sent fire through it, cooing softly. It was just nightmare, he told it. It wanted to let go. Why don't we let go? The bonds dissipated and the moth dropped to the floor.

"Useless," the moth muttered, shakily getting to his feet. He only managed a step before collapsing again, Grimm begrudgingly catching him. "Mmm."

A long pause, and then, "I'mma sleep now," the moth mumbled.

"Please do not," Grimm said. He got no response and he sighed, scooping the moth up properly and carefully making his way up the stairs. Once sufficently safe from disappearing brick he set him on the floor. A gold light encircled him, Grimm jumping back in surprise.

The light dimmed after a few minutes, runes floating about. He sat down and waited.

* * *

It did not feel like the moth slept long, jumping to his feet and startling Grimm out of his own nap. "Vessel!" the moth chirped. 

"Grimm."

"How de _light_ ful your appearance! I knew She would not forget us. How kind, how loving She remains!"

Was. Was he going to be like this the whole time? Had _he_ been like this? Surely not. Hopefully not. "Uh huh."

"I am Sparkle! Tell me, Vessel-"

" _Grimm._ " What sort of name was Sparkle?

"- where to next?"

"It's Grimm."

"I make it a habit to not confirm the delusions of lesser beings! Now! Where to next?"

"That way," Grimm said, pointing in a random direction. 

_Grimm,_ the Radiance said. Sparkle crossed his arms and huffed.

"I can't work under these conditions," Grimm muttered.

"Sure you can! Focus. Close your eyes-- _close them_ \--" Grimm sighed and did so. "And focus."

"Nothing is nearby," he said, opening his eyes.

"Okay! Then we shall go," Sparkle grabbed his arm and looked around, his expression falling for a fraction of a second before pointing out the door. "That way!"

_Please make him stop._

_I do not stop!_

_WHY ARE YOU HERE TOO-_

_Children,_ the Radiance hummed. Sparkle pulled him out of the building, then immediately stopped.

"Ah," he said softly. "It's..."

He shook himself, wiggling Grimm's arm in the process. "It's fine. This way, Vessel!"

And the moth led him out into the expanse of dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost access to my writing program, and while I'll hopefully regain it, as you can imagine losing access to years worth of writing (and all my work for Fire on Fire) was. Upsetting lmao.
> 
> You've heard of Terra now say hello to: Sol. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! From this I draw strength.


	12. once we had a home

Sparkle trotted along, still gripping his arm and talking happily. He had paid attention at first, but after the third “You should have seen Lightcore! Absolutely dazzling! Delightful! Spires that scraped the clouds!” as he shook his arm for emphasis, only to switch moments later to a soft “I miss it,” Grimm tuned him out. At some point Sparkle let go of his arm and he wrapped his wings around himself.

Eventually they stopped, Sparkle sitting and dream rising to meet him to form a wispy stool. The moth let out a tired sigh, fluffing his fur before resting a cheek in his palm and slumping. Grimm hesitated before awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“There was so much more before,” Sparkle muttered. He waved a hand and a second stool formed. He nodded at it and Grimm gingerly sat. “Beautiful cities, here and in the waking world… stained glass that cast rainbows… great herds of dreamspawn.”

“I know it means nothing to you,” the moth said, glancing at him. “I just… I miss it. I spent so long trapped, waiting for the day I could see everything again, and it’s…”

He sighed again. 

_We will rebuild,_ the Radiance assured. 

“Just give it time,” Grimm found himself saying. Sparkle gave a small smile.

“Thanks,” the moth said. “I guess you could be worse company.”

He huffed. “Just give that time as well,” he said, Sparkle chuckling.

Grimm supposed it made sense Sparkle would not have the stamina for long excursions. At some point the moth fell asleep, cushioning his head in his fluff and making all the fur along his neck extra fat. It was, admittedly, quite cute. Grimm stared across the dream and felt a stab of longing. He wanted to go _home_. To nightmare. To the Troupe. 

_Why not here?_ the Radiance asked. He shook his head slightly. _I would take care of you. You would not have to worry-_

A strange, almost burning weight against his mind. It hummed soothingly and he shook his head more. 

_\- about anything ever again._

“Stop,” he snapped. Sparkle snuffled but did not wake. The weight lessened, and she said nothing.

A sea of dream did not offer much by way of distractions, and despite his alarm he found himself dozing off. He dreamed of Brumm trying to make soup while a Grimmkin stole his ladle, another adding a bag of grits to the now overflowing pot. He dreamed of a whispering warmth. 

_I think I found one,_ the Radiance said some time later, abruptly pulling him from his nap. Sparkle yawned loudly next to him. Grimm was still sleepily working on asking _what_ when light engulfed them and they teleported with a soft _hawh_.

This he was used to. Grimm spread his wings and gently drifted down the few feet up they now were. Sparkle chirped in alarm and faceplanted, the Radiance helping him to his feet.

 _Sorry,_ she said as Grimm snickered. 

“Shut up, Vessel,” Sparkle snapped. Grimm rolled his eyes but did not comment. 

The Nightmare Realm roiled nearby, dream and nightmare coiling against each other before dissipating. He took a step towards it.

 _Grimm,_ she said.

It was so close. The humming grew louder and he hissed. 

_My subjects,_ she said. _I thought I sensed Mab for a moment. Do you-_

Rage swelled in him.

He was so close to home and she expected him to search for some moth? To put up with Sparkle? He would carve his own place if needed, Light be damned, Heart be damned. It needed him, and he would _show_ It this even if he had to rip It from Its roost himself. He was the Nightmare King and he would be _King_.

He called nightmare to him. He felt it struggle through dream but nevertheless it appeared, erupting in pillars of flame. Sparkle yelped and Grimm broke into ash; the form was far more difficult to control but he willed himself towards the Nightmare Realm and he bolted towards it. Pain ripped through him as he crossed into it but he was still able to. He reformed, tumbling in the dirt and gulping breaths.

A familiar, distant presence brushed his mind and it took all his will to ignore it. He would not-

A _hawh_ , and he summoned nightmare between him and the Radiance. She did not move to attack him, though, merely staring at him with piercing eyes. 

“You’re upset,” she said. Her proper voice was soft, barely more than whisper. “I understand.”

Clouds of red and gray built behind him. A flicker of fear passed through him—he could not take the Radiance _and_ the Heart. Truly, despite his buoy of anger he doubted he could take either. Maybe, maybe the Heart. 

“You are powerful,” she said. “But not in your own right.”

He hissed and lobbed a bolt of nightmare; she lifted a hand it broke against a wall of dream. “My sibling did not take Its blessing back,” she said. “Because I did not give It time to. If It had, you would be powerless. I protected you.”

That-

It had only severed their connection. The Radiance had attuned him to Dream, but would that be enough if he lost the Heart’s blessing? Probably not. 

Why would she protect him? Because she needed him, he supposed. The clouds grew and the Radiance extended a hand.

“I’m forgiving,” she said softly. “I won’t stop you, but what will you do when you need to rest? The Heart will tear Its blessing from you and give it to another while you sleep.”

“No,” Grimm croaked. He looked back to the clouds and a shimmery barrier appeared, smoke rising against it. A large bat crested the horizon and flew up to the barrier, pulsing with nightmare. Circled back to the Heart. Bats rarely left their cave system. Why…

He’d been replaced. Already. The Heart had found someone better able to help It. Tears burned in his eyes. He’d wanted to help It. Had It meant for all this to happen, so he could more easily be replaced?

It had to be more than that. His attitude? Surely that. He’d been wrong that the Heart would not abandon him after all. Thought the Heart fond of him. If It’d truly grown sick of his antics he would have stopped, he _would_ have, if he’d known, had he known? And not taken the Heart seriously? Too confident in his position? 

That… that made sense. Why tolerate a Vessel that forgot himself? Had the Heart not said similar not too long ago? Had he not just felt he could take the Heart’s place? All this was his fault, he’d done it to himself, surely the Heart could defeat a barely returned Radiance if It wanted to. 

The Radiance placed a warm hand on his cheek and turned his face back towards her.

“Shall I drop the barrier? You could definitely take the bat.”

“No,” he croaked, taking her still extended hand. Light washed over them and they reappeared in Dream, Sparkle nearby.

“Goodness,” the Radiance hummed, patting his cheek. “You really wouldn’t last a minute on your own, would you?”

“I…”

“Grimm.”

He sighed, deflating. “I guess not.”

“Now. About Mab,” she said.

He swallowed thickly, rubbing an eye before shutting them both. Nightmare churned against Dream and he did his best to ignore it, finally pointing towards the pinprick he could sense. “Something is nearby. It is… distorted.”

“Thought so,” she hummed. “Come. The sooner we free her, the sooner we can away from this mess.”

She nudged him along, and he headed towards the source with a defeated sigh. 

* * *

The bat peered through the churning nightmare, wings beating furiously as he tried to hover. “Don’t worry sire!” he yelled. 

_Grimm_ the Heart said. _He can’t-_

“We’ll come save you!”

_He can’t hear you._

“I am trying to convey my emotions regardless!” Grimm retorted, cooing sadly when he finally lost sight of his namesake. “Let me go. I’ll nab him so fast-”

_She will destroy you._

“- she’ll be like ‘what happened?’ Grimm happened, that’s what!” 

_He seemed aggressive, and wouldn’t allow me to speak with him. He would destroy you._

“That,” Grimm allowed, landing with a small _oof_. “Would be quite a damper on my plans. Though possibly neat.”

_No._

“Definitely fiery.”

_Stop._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H o w d y.


	13. but was it ever ours?

Hollow was determined to find the source of the funnel cake.

Hornet was no help, preoccupied with the sleep Grimm had been locked in for the past many months. Hollow did their best to avoid the tent now; it was too warm, not from the scarlet they’d come to find comforting but a warmth a spark away from becoming an overwhelming fire.

It was while Hollow was nosing about the food stalls, squinting as they saw a tray of funnel cakes but no oven or magical funnel cake making creature, that Hornet trotted up to them. She seemed stressed. She often seemed stressed. 

“Hollow,” Hornet said. “I know you don’t want to-”

They shook their head again. She would ask them to go to the tent, to see if Grimm’s state was familiar. They did not want this familiarity. 

“I know. I understand.”

They hissed lowly. The beetle behind the stall politely ignored them. [You do not.] Her vigil had been noble but it was not theirs, it was not containing what could not be, knowing they were _broken_ and having every doubt they’d tried so hard to hide clawed open and breaking them further. They had been certain they had done one thing right, that hiding their faults at least spared their siblings was worth it, that they could _do it_ if they just! Pushed! Everything! Down! Further! Smothered it! It would be okay and it was not and this never would have happened if they’d just revealed themselves, no wonder their father—the Pale King they did not _deserve_ to call him father—never returned, he could have if he wanted to it was not as though anything or anyone could stop him-

“Hey,” Hornet said gently, touching their mask. Through her they felt vibrations, them, they were shaking- “You’re right. I don’t understand. I’m sorry.”

They pushed their head into her chest. She wrapped her arms around their mask and after time, time was so liquid still, a tightness they hadn’t realized in their chest relaxed. They chirped softly.

“It’s okay,” Hornet said, patting them as they stood properly. “We’ll figure something out. Why… why don’t we go find that funnel cake?”

Funnel cake! It was delicious! They chirped in delight and hurried towards another stall, Hornet darting after them.

“How do you bake your food?” an exasperated Hornet asked some time later. A nearby grimmkin merely giggled and clapped their hands together, the roach behind the stall throwing some glitter in the air but not replying.

* * *

It was after this, and five funnel cakes, that Hollow allowed Hornet to lead them into the tent. It smelled sweet, foulness lingering as an undertone. 

“You have the most experience,” Hornet whispered, nodding at Grimm. “He hasn’t woken up. Should… we be worried?”

They stepped closer. Grimm had curled into a ball, clutching a pillow and puncturing holes into it with his claws. Sweat sheened his shell that still glowed with a soft light. The gray of his wings had lightened to near white. He was not the deathly still they had seen afflict those before they woke infected, though, tattered wings flicking and soft mumbles coming from him. Brumm and Blossom lingered nearby, the aphid pressing a cloth to his brow. Divine watched from further back.

They did not know. Grimm had chosen to take the Light’s heart in him, though try as they might they could no longer sense it, just a vague presence. They had too, though, for similar reasons, he had said he would be fine but what if he was lying, like they had been lying, and the same thing was going to happen all over again? 

Hornet squeezed their hand and they suppressed their shaking again, chirping lowly.

“Ventures into the realms often take time,” Divine said. 

“But months?” Hornet asked, letting go of their hand. “Even if time flows differently, how long do you expect me to wait?”

“This has been far longer than usual,” Divine admitted, rubbing her claws together. “But we will not lock our Troupe Master in your weird egg.”

“I will not let Hallownest, or some other unknown location you travel to, suffer the cost of the infection.”

“The Nightmare Heart will protect him-”

“Sure! Maybe him! But what if they are working together? We’ll have some nightmare-dream hybrid infection-”

“That’s ridiculous-”

“He’s ridiculous!” 

“You’re ridiculous!”

Hollow chirped softly and backed out of the tent, stopping only when their voices were soft despite their yelling. They did not want her to return. They did not want to think of the infection. They did not want to lose one of their few friends to such an awful place, even if they knew Hornet was right.

They made their way to the house they and Hornet had claimed in Dirtmouth. It was small, a woven nest slung near the ceiling for Hornet, the bulk of the floor devoted to Hollow’s junk. Pillows, blankets, thimbles, shiny rocks, bits of fabric, buttons, flowers, bits of charcoal, maps, anything that had interested them Before but they could not then investigate. They extracted the grub plushie from their mess of a nest.

Perhaps Grimm would be fine. He, after all, had thousands of years of experience where they did not. 

And thousands of years of _emotions_. The Radiance had shattered them over their minuscule thoughts and pains. Ones they were not supposed to have, ones they had suppressed. What would she do to someone who’d embraced them for so long? 

They squeezed the plushie. Ghost was containing her. But why was Grimm still asleep?

They hated this. Now that they had started thinking, they did it all the time. Hornet had called it cruel, but by the Wyrm, nothingness has been so much easier. 

Surely it was not fair of them to expect Ghost to contain her. They never should have called for help… but then Hallownest would still be in her clutches. 

The Radiance was their burden. 

They did not want to dream again. 

Hornet had watched over Hallownest during its decay, one that threatened to return.

Surely she deserved better. The ability to go somewhere else, to not feel tied to a kingdom that had given her so little.

Grimm had chosen to take her heart. 

He never would have had to if they’d just done their duty. They sighed, carefully tucking the plushie into their cloak before picking up their nail. 

They turned towards the door at the sound of footsteps. A flash of red. “Hey,” Hornet said. 

They chirruped a greeting.

“I’m sorry about the yelling. Everything will be fine.”

They knew she was saying this to comfort them. When they had first stumbled out of the black egg, when everything had been a painful blur, her words had meant so much. Finally, _finally_ they could rest.

“Are you going back out? It’s getting pretty late.”

Oh. They dropped their nail, pulling the plushie out of their cloak and curling in their nest. She scritched their mask before hopping up into her own nest and they cooed.

Hollow waited, straining to listen. Eventually Hornet’s tossing stopped and her breathing evened out with sleep. They stood slowly, picking up their nail and plushie and gingerly making their way towards the door. They bumped something that sounded like clay. A sleepy “Hollow?” from above. A soft chirp. Another wait until her breathing quieted again. Finally, they made it out the door.

Perhaps before they could have guided themselves to a realm proper. But even if they could, they did not have the strength to fight a mawlurk, much less Dream incarnate.

They more fell than hopped down the well, shaking themselves off and continuing on. Ghost did, though. Perhaps Ghost could help them, heal them, make them hollow in more than name.

Maybe then, they thought, squeezing the plushie, they could seal her away for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao this was meant to be a cute "Hollow wants food" chapter but wow that didn't happen.


	14. i don't remember anymore

Exhaustion crashed down on him like stones, Grimm stumbling to a knee and drawing a ragged breath. The ground was cracked and sparkled, a marble or granite with what looked like dandelions pushing through.

They had not been here. When had they gotten here?

“This is why I wanted the big one,” said a voice he didn’t recognize. They sounded like their nose was stuffed up.

“You know I meant to bring you the big one, Mab,” the Radiance, still barely above a whisper. “Plans went awry.”

Mab… they had been looking for Mab. He had no recollection of actually finding her, just being… near something else. Something important. Or was it? It’d been red. Probably. Yes. No? 

“The Wyrm put an ice bolt through your face,” Mab wheezed.

“It was very distracting, yes.”

Grimm slumped onto his side, shutting his eyes. Cold burned through him and he opened them again; a light green moth with brown eyespots on her wings, wrapped in thick white robes, had a hand raised towards him.

“I’m tired, too,” Sparkle said suddenly. He’d barely noticed him behind the other two. 

“Ugh,” Mab said, lowering her hand. The cold lifted. “When are you going to overcome this need?”

“Probably never.”

“Radddiii-”

“Sparkle can sleep if he wants,” the Radiance said.

“Can I keep working on the vessel?”

The Radiance looked critically at him. He felt his eyes sliding shut again regardless. “Sure.”

A strange sense of weightlessness washed over him. He stood-

\- teetering, staring at a fragmented silvery orb, gold like broken claws around it. Mab stood next to him, fingers pressed to her mouth in thought. She walked a few feet around the orb, squinting at it, and he found himself following her. At some point she moved again and he shook his head, taking a step back. Something clattered to the ground and he could not find the energy to jump, instead staring wearily at his feet. A bag he’d been holding sat there.

“Do you know what this is?” Mab asked. He looked up, barely catching her gesturing at the orb.

“What,” he croaked. His voice was weak. Had it always been like this? Where were the dandelions. Dandelions? Broken pillars of white surrounded them, dream visible through shattered stained glass. “Are you doing to me?”

Mab gave him a neutral look. “Who says I’m doing anything?” 

“You,” he said. Dandelions. “Earlier.”

She looked back to the orb. “You are far more resilient than the Radiance gives you credit. You are severed from your focus, but can still shrug us off.”

“Focus?” he asked softly. He found himself placing a hand to his chest.

She took the hand in her own and lowered it. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. 

“Was it red?”

Weightlessness creeped over him and he hissed. No. _No._ “It was,” he said. He-

\- passed out, collapsing into something soft. Orange filtered his sleep, a miasma a part of him knew to fear but it was warm, and he was so tired. A voice whispered of rest and serenity. Everything would be fine. 

He had to wake up. He could not remember why but it was important. The voice spoke louder and he ignored it; he had to wake up. _He had to wake up._

“Sol,” the Radiance hissed, a hand reaching for him. He saw stone behind her and he wrapped himself in red. Away. 

He teleported, landing hard on more stone. He could not see her, but he heard a “Sol! Damnit! Grimm!” not too far away. He was awake. He still had to wake up. Why? Wake up.

 _Grimm!_ her voice seared in his mind and he threw himself against it, summoning more red—scarlet?—clawing.

* * *

The stone and noise disappeared, replaced with him bolting upright and disturbing a nest of pillows. A sense of urgency melted away as he glanced about. Torchlight dimly lit the space, some sort of tent filled with the gaudiest _stuff_ he’d ever seen. Floating sprites jumped, then flew over and chirped excitedly at him. He carefully pushed one away and it burst into wails.

“I’m sorry!” he croaked, awkwardly patting it. “I’m sorry! Please stop crying!”

A large figure with a fluffy red mantle and striped arms all but ripped the tent flap off as they burst in. He froze, the sprite giggling and twirling around him.

“Grimm!” the figure exclaimed. “You’re awake!”

They ran over and pulled him into a crushing hug. “W- who are you?” he asked.

The figure pulled back and stared. Bewildered, Grimm added a, “Where am I?”

“If this is a joke, Master, please stop,” the figure said.

Ooo, Master? Oh, great, was all this gaudy stuff his? “N- no?”

“I’m Brumm,” he said. Grimm felt a spark of… something. Something? It was almost longing. “This is the Grimm Troupe.”

“That’s me,” Grimm said brightly. Brumm looked torn between crying and slapping him when sleep all but yanked his feet out from under him.

* * *

“Sol,” the Radiance snapped. She held him up at her eye level by his wings. “I’m starting to miss the Hollow Knight.”

“Oh,” Grimm said. He had no idea who that was. What a badass title, though. “I hope you find them soon, then.”

“Mab,” the Radiance drifted down from what apparently had been an outcropping up a tower. “You weren’t supposed to make him an idiot.”

“I didn’t,” Mab said. “I think this is just his natural state.”

“I’m a bat,” Grimm confirmed happily. 

No he wasn’t.

Wait.

He stared at a hand.

“I am _not_ a bat,” he said. Mab opened a notebook and hastily wrote it while muttering something that sounded like _rest increased efficiency of memory loss._ “Oh. Did I forget something important?”

“You somehow have less decorum now,” the Radiance muttered. “Would it be morally wrong of me to go through with punishing him?”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Mab asked, at the same time Sparkle said, “Yes.”

“Mm. A split. I’ll put a pin in it for now.”

“Do I get a vote?” Grimm asked.

“No.”


	15. is here not enough?

Hornet woke with a start. It took her a minute to wake properly and figure out why: the room was too quiet. Absent was Hollow’s breathing, loud and chunky like they were gargling rocks. She forced herself to take a steadying breath. This was fine. They had been spending a lot of time with the Troupe, especially since they proved more than happy to feed them. They were probably begging breakfast off someone. Nothing to worry about.

She repeated this as she hopped down from her nest and neatly spooled her thread. Their nail and grub plushie were missing, which was a good sign. Hollow had definitely chosen to leave. She’d go find them and give them a bit of a scolding, they’d brush it off affectionately, and all would be well.

She trotted outside, ignoring the few sleepy bugs already out and about. The tents of the Troupe were bright, almost welcoming if not for the whole concept of Grimm.

The worst part was she couldn’t _really_ hate Grimm. He was relatively charming and friendly, and genuinely seemed to care for his Troupe and Hollow. He was just… also Grimm. 

Ugh.

“Hello,” she chirped, forcing herself to be polite to the roach behind the stall. “Have you seen Hollow today?”

The roach shook their head. That was… concerning. Hollow was not exactly subtle. She hurried to the others, all who confirm the Vessel had not been around yet.

Panic began to set in earnest. Where was her sibling? She darted back into town, doing her best to not yell at the now shaking bugs as she needled them with questions. Finally, a beetle said she’d seen a large shape heading towards the well while making her too-early morning tea. Hornet managed a terse thank you before hurrying off.

 _Calm down,_ she scolded herself as she dropped into the crossroads. Parts of the dirt seemed freshly disturbed at uneven intervals, like someone had stabbed at it. No doubt Hollow, leaning on their nail. Calm down. They were huge and lumbering; even if this track disappeared, she could no doubt find some trace of their passing.

They seemed to be heading to the Fungal Wastes, _why_ lost on her. They were going to get themselves stuck, and she’d have to find some way to wrangle them to safety. She allowed herself an annoyed huff. 

She did indeed find numerous crushed mushrooms and deep cracks in the side of stone as she traveled, but no Hollow. Perhaps she’d underestimated them, she thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. She’d spoken to them not that many hours ago, and they’d already managed a rather large distance.

She hesitated as the tracks led her to the entrance of the Mantis Village. If this was their end goal… why? As far as she knew Hollow did not really have friends, and if she was recalling what her mother—she felt a now familiar twinge in her chest—had told her correctly, the mantids more tolerated Hallownest’s existence than enjoyed it.

“… Hello,” she called to the nearest mantid, who simply looked tired.

“Are you looking for the big bug?” he replied.

“Yes. They’re my sibling.”

The glance her gave her said he doubted that, but he gestured for her to follow. She tightened her grip on her needle as she did so. Twenty paces in, and she heard what sounded like a massive _thing_ slamming.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“Probably the door to Deepnest. I wouldn’t wor- excuse me.”

She darted ahead. It had sounded below her, and she followed every chance to drop down before she nearly faceplanted at an much longer fall. She sank her needle into the wall next to her and carefully stepped onto the ground. She was certain she heard a sister make a soft “uughh,” noise, but as she approached they all were calm.

“Did a-” she began.

One pointed at the massive stone door to her left.

“ _Why?_ ”

“They seemed in a hurry. We believe this,” one gestured a rectangle and then chirped two notes. “Meant tram? And I can’t say we’ve ever had a bug barge in to use our door for travel.”

A tram? The only tram in Deepnest connected to the Kingdom’s Edge and the Ancient Basin.

The Basin.

_The Abyss._

“Let me through,” she snapped.

“You don’t seem about to fall over. Our door isn’t for-”

“They’re my sibling! You just let them into _Deepnest!_ Let! Me! Through!”

A pause, and then a beleaguered, “Open the door.” She ran through the moment there was enough space.

* * *

A forgetful Grimm was a cheerful Grimm, and somehow, this made Sparkle feel worse. The red that had been so bright before barely clung to his shell now, washed in gray and white. He had expected him to be colder, more calculating, but really he was just an idiot.

No. That wasn’t fair. He was trusting, friendly, and did not shut up. Sparkle didn’t really mind; Grimm pointed at rather normal Dream Things and asked what they were. Who were they? Who was he? Dream stuff. That was the Radiance. Mab. Sparkle. They were looking for their friend. Oh, could he help? Immensely, actually. He was Grimm, to which he immediately replied with “I don’t feel grim at all!” and a cackle. 

They had made it about an hour before the Radiance placed her wings to her temple, seething, and placed a silencing seal on Grimm.

Grimm had then sat down and refused to move.

This was where they were now.

“Grimm,” the Radiance snapped. “Get up.”

He shook his head and crossed his arms. 

“Mab,” the Radiance said, and the moth raised a hand. For a moment he went slack, eyes misty, and he stood.

Then he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, taking a step back. With a snap of her fingers, the Radiance removed the seal. “What,” she snapped. “Is your deal?”

“You could have just asked me to stop,” Grimm said.

A pause, Sparkle suppressing a laugh at the clear _processing_ expression on the Radiance. Grimm took this quiet to continue. “You just jumped to a silence, which I don’t appreciate. I feel it’s reasonable, given I don’t seem to remember too much, to ask questions. You then seemed to… for lack of a technical term, try to mind control me? We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”

It took the Radiance another minute to finally manage a, “Yes.”

“I thought so. Given that, you _don’t_ have my permission to do such things to me.”

“Are you telling me what to do?” She snapped. She poofed a bit and Sparkle took a step back, but Grimm seemed unfazed. 

“No. I’m establishing boundaries. I’m a little perturbed I apparently have to tell you ‘hey, don’t mind control me.’” 

This was it, Sparkle thought sadly. The Radiance, bless Her, was going to slam dunk Grimm into smithereens. He was trying to figure out how to word some sort of excuse for him when the Radiance, surprisingly, calmed.

“The Heart must have worked this out of you,” she muttered. 

“The what?” Grimm asked.

“Nothing. Let’s go, and tell me if you sense anything.”

Grimm huffed but, mercifully, said nothing. He fell back into step next to him. “What’s the Heart?” he asked.

 _For the love of… whatever,_ the Radiance chimed in his mind.

“The god of the nightmare realm,” Sparkle said tentatively. 

“Oh. So of course she doesn’t like it.”

“Yup.”

Sparkle waited for more, but Grimm fell quiet. He seemed to be thinking, idly chewing a claw. A part of him knew he should probably stop him. Another part of him just wanted to leave him be.

Sparkle lost track of time. Eventually Grimm stopped, turning to stare in the direction of the Nightmare Realm. Ah. He should probably-

His thought was cut off by the sight of three bats, careening through dream and leaving streaks of nightmare. They circled each other, then broke off into different directions.

“Bat,” Grimm said. 

“Wh- oh for the love of Sol. Mab!”

Grimm whipped his head towards her, clearly opening his mouth to protest when Mab closed the distance between them, more slapping his brow with her spell than casting it. His eyes went misty again.

“That should hold,” Mab said, sighing. “At least for a while. Let’s go. Sparkle. Shield us.”

“A- ah. Yes,” he said. He called dream to them, letting it settle over them like a thicker cloud. Grimm followed Mab without comment. 

“It won’t give up,” the Radiance muttered. “ _Why._ ”

Sparkle did not point out that she was still searching for Opal, the only one of them missing at this point. That the first thing she’d done after returning was work to save them. It was sweet.

After a few minutes a bat flew over head, chirping in annoyance but not pausing.

* * *

The most recent scouts returned. They had not sensed nightmare at all this time, even when they braved further into the realm.

The Heart did not know what to do. It could not sense through the veil of dream, but the bats should be able to once in it. If they could not, then it meant…

It meant Grimm was becoming more and more consumed by dream. Eventually, if not already, he would blend in entirely. It would be much, much harder to search for him visually, even more so if It’s sister was actively shielding him.

“We’ll find him!” a bat assured, after a period of quiet. It did not know their name. Possibly Grimm. There were a handful of Grimms’. It was an honor to be named after him, after all.

The Heart felt a stab of guilt. It had never forbade Grimm from returning to the caves, but It had not encouraged it. Perhaps It should have. Perhaps It should have encouraged Grimm to take breaks. Perhaps then Grimm wouldn’t have been so quick to feel It had abandoned him, if It’d ever bothered to treat him like a person. 

Because It hadn’t, really. It’d recognized he had limits, mostly physical, but It’d been so _delighted_ in realizing It’d succeed on its first try. Grimm’s streak of independence was more than enough to establish the Troupe, to be entertaining, frankly, but not enough that It hadn’t been able to squash that touch of rebellion out of him. 

It supposed that made it all worse. The one—the _one time_ —in thousands of years, when Grimm truly needed It to protect him, It hadn’t been able to. And It’d sense how absolutely certain he’d been that It would. 

How absolutely _crushed_ he’d been when It couldn’t. 

“Lord?” a bat asked, pulling It from It’s thoughts.

 _Keep searching,_ It said. What else could It do? 

* * *

The Heart! Grimm took a shuddered breath, stopping. He needed to return to It. Where were they? He-

The Radiance placed a soft wing on his cheek and he flinched. Her eyes were molten, an uncomfortable warmth coursing through him.

“Grimm,” she said softly. His stomach dropped. “I need you to listen to me.”

He nodded.

“I am being patient. I am giving you chances. You, however, insist on tearing through my patience. Even when I try to help you, you manage to spit in it.”

He… he couldn’t remember. What had happened recently. Had he? He must have. He chirruped apologetically. 

Mab. It was Mab. She was the one doing something, he had to find some way to stop her. The Radiance let go and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Do you sense Opal?”

He wracked his brain. Opal must be another of her followers, but he could not remember them ever being brought up. He couldn’t remember a lot of things, recent ones at least. The Troupe, the Heart, he had to hold onto these, he’d forgotten and he could not-

He was jostled from his thoughts by him tumbling to the ground, a hand instinctively going to where his cheek stung. The Radiance loomed over him and he shrank back.

“Well?”

The… who… Opal. “N- no.”

“Well, focus,” she snapped, picking him up by a wing. “If I tear one of these off, will to finally listen?”

“N- no! I mean. Yes. No, you don’t have to. Yes, I’m listening. I’m sorry.”

She dropped him and continued ahead. His legs gave up on him and he sank to the ground.

“C’mon,” Sparkle said quietly, grabbing an arm and pulling him to his feet. Grimm clung to him, trying to steady his breathing as they walked.

He cast his senses out. He sensed multiple pinpricks, above and away. They were warm, though, almost familiar. Bats. 

Wait.

 _Multiple_ bats? He focused on them. It was hard to tell, but they seemed to mostly be separate, moving in straight lines. That didn’t make sense. He’d seen the other bat, the other Vessel, or what he thought was. And the Radiance had said-

He shook his head. Surely, despite everything, he could remember that the Radiance was most likely lying to him.

You’d believed her just fine, he reminded himself. Because she’d been gentle, and that’s all his dumb heart had needed. He was so stupid.

He could sense his own connection to nightmare was dwindling, the Heart’s blessing almost extinguished by dream. Certainly not enough to warrant trying to take from him. Surely the Heart knew this.

So why would the Heart have multiple Vessels, why would they be here, in dream, unless-

They weren’t Vessels.

They were searching for him.

To _save_ him.

Hope blossomed in his chest and he knew it was a stupid thing to cradle. But surely that made more sense than whatever the Radiance said. He tentatively reached out with the sliver of nightmare he had.

It became warped with dream and faded. He wanted to cry. He would have to wait until they were much closer, then.

“C’mon,” Sparkle murmured nervously, nudging him to move faster. He stumbled but kept moving. The Radiance and Mab glanced back but otherwise ignored them.

“Ah,” Grimm croaked. “I take it you’re usually the punching bag.”

“Not like you are.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Grimm said, the moth flinching.

“Shut up, Vessel.”

Grimm did so, noting Sparkle did not move away. Finally, after a pause, the moth said, “You basically told the Radiance to behave, earlier.”

Oh, he had? That explained why she’d been so angry. “I don’t remember.”

“I think she knows that, too. She just…”

“Doesn’t care. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Sparkle said, his voice dropping to a distressed whisper. “She wasn’t always like this. It _hurts_ , how much She’s changed.”

“Since the Wyrm, I take it?”

“I wish,” he murmured. “I wish that was it. But She… do you know about Lightcore?”

A fragmented silvery orb, gold like broken claws around it. Sparkle had mentioned it was the heart of dream, the-

The heart of dream.

The _Heart_ of dream. The Nightmare Heart had always been frustrated that It’s sister had apparently managed to properly project herself when It could not. 

“The two realms have Hearts,” Sparkle said. “It holds them together. But they can’t move, so they need Vessels-”

“She killed her,” Grimm whispered. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Hadn’t he thought not too long ago that he’d rip the Nightmare Heart from It’s roost himself if he had to? Be King? “And took her power. Her place.”

The Nightmare Heart wouldn’t know. It’d said they couldn’t really sense each other, not after dividing the realms. And if she’d taken her power she’d feel the same, or at least very similar. Sparkle glanced at the two ahead of them, Mab only calling for them to not get lost.

“E- everything was… okay, for a long while. I got over my guilt. It happens, I figured. But things started falling apart. Disappearing. She needed to stay in the realm proper, to hold it together, but she didn’t want to.”

Sparkle took a steadying breath. “ _Then_ the Wyrm came.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Grimm asked. 

“Because I know Her. I love Her, but I know Her. And now, with the Nightmare Heart devoting so much effort to try to find you, what if that realm becomes unstable, too? If It wanted both, what’s to say She doesn’t either?”

Grimm stopped, gulping a breath. “Oh.”

“Grimm!” the Radiance snapped. “Move!”

He let Sparkle nudge him forward again. _Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! As always, thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos.


	16. can we not just be together?

Hollow had meant to return to the Abyss as quickly as possible.

They had.

Really.

But then they’d dropped—if we were being honest, _fallen_ —into a hot spring, and, well. There they still were, cooing softly, eyes shut as they reveled in its waters. Their Soul reserves would fill and they’d emit a burst of magic. 

They supposed they shouldn’t have been surprised when, barely two minutes later, there was a splash next to them. They opened their eyes to see Hornet, shaking slightly. They were not sure if it was rage, or fear, or something else.

“Hollow,” she finally said. 

They chirped.

“You’re okay?”

A confirming chirp.

“Then what are you doing?” she snapped. They flinched back and she took a deep breath. A few more, her shaking finally stopping.

Her voice was impossibly small when she next spoke. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

They looked into the water. They did not know what to do, how to convey it was because they would not have the strength to do so and then leave. If they had they would have stayed. They had to stay. They could not leave her, alone, what, they wondered, would they accomplish in leaving? What did they accomplish in staying? 

“You never wanted to stay,” she said, still quiet but enough to break them of their thoughts.

They struggled to their feet, crossing the small distance between them and gently booping her mask.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. 

They pressed their grub plushie into her hand. A pause, then a soft sigh and a, “Thanks.”

She tucked it into her cloak, then held out her hand. They hesitated, and she said, “As your sister, I am going to make sure you actually get there in one piece.”

They wiggled the stump of their arm.

“Mostly one piece.”

A soft coo, and they gingerly sheathed their nail and took her hand.

* * *

The rest of the journey was surprisingly peaceful. Hollow happily poked about the tram, then took her hand again when they disembarked. The Abyss laid open, dark tendrils creeping out of it like overgrown vines. The logical part of her yelled _stay away_ , and she stamped it down.

She let go of Hollow’s hand in order to peer over the edge. Deathly silence answered her, tolerable when it’d simply been Ghost staring mutely at her but overwhelming here.

Hollow scooted next to her, peering over before letting out a loud scream. She jumped, instinctively throwing her needle into the wall behind them even though she did not fall, or really even stumble. 

“Hollow!” she snapped. The vessel chirped mildly. “What are you doing?”

[Calling Ghost.]

Oh. She supposed that was helpful, even if they could have picked a better method. She sighed and pulled her needle back, Hollow unsheathing their nail to lean on it again.

It took her a number of minutes to notice the increase of inky tendrils clinging to the stone. Slowly, more and more appeared and snaked up, some wrapping around heavier outcroppings like anchor points. The air began somehow both thicker and thinner, Hornet forcing her breathing to stay even as the light behind them dulled.

Finally, a massive shape loomed over them, rows of white eyes opening.

Hornet took a step back. She knew this was Ghost but they were also _not_ Ghost, their presence alien. She’d always boasted nothing frightened her, at least until Ghost, tiny and never still, became-

Whatever-

This was. She still struggled to process them. Ghost had been so small! And cute! And now radiated so much power and so much _nothingness_ that she wanted to run far, far away.

Hollow chirped. Ghost did not chirp so much as rumble, shaking her core but not the stone around them. She tightened her hold on her needle. Were they arguing? She couldn’t protect Hollow from them, she should have stopped them from coming here, what if Ghost hurt them? She-

Hollow sank to the ground, clutching their chest. “Ghost!” she snapped, the sound echoing. She briefly wondered if this was how she died, killed by an eldritch god she scolded like a child. “Don’t hurt them!”

Ghost made a noise akin to a laugh. Void erupted from the stump of Hollow’s arm, then reformed, fingers flexing uncertainly.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s okay then.”

Hollow chirped loudly.

A soft chirp in response.

An earsplitting whistle, Hollow stabbing the dirt with their nail and huffing.

A rumble.

Another, softer chirrup. 

A tendril wrapped around their nail. After a few moments Hollow let go. Quickly closed their hand around it again. A long minute before they let go and took a step back. The tendril tightened and the blade shattered. A hand extended, palm up, and Hollow gingerly stepped onto it. 

“Hollow,” she croaked. They turned back to her, the sign difficult to make out in the darkness. [I love you.]

“I love you too.”

Hornet was so busy watching Hollow that it took her a long moment to realize a nearby tendril was offering her something. A flower. Delicate, glowing with its own pale light.

“Thanks,” she managed to whisper, taking another moment to gingerly take the stem. Ghost cooed.

Then Ghost’s eyes closed, their hand closing around Hollow, and the Void sank back into the Abyss.

She refused to cry. She would not cry. Her vision blurred and she blinked angrily, turning and walking out of the Abyss alone.

* * *

The Radiance and Mab chattered up ahead, Sparkle humming beside him. Another crumbled town glinted in the distance, and Sparkle had excitedly announced earlier this town once had a library, and he hoped it was somewhat intact. Clouds of dream rolled thickly around their feet, Grimm unable to help sticking his hands in them from time to time.

“Heeeyyy-o!”

Grimm braced himself as a moth appeared out of seemingly nowhere, trails of cloud behind him. The two ahead paused but did not seem alarmed. Grimm had thought he was heading for him, but instead the moth spread his wings and skidded to a stop in front of Sparkle. 

“Opal,” Sparkle said, the exhaustion in his voice forcing Grimm to suppress a laugh. 

“Sparkle! My great,” he squished the other moth’s face. “Wonderful healer. These years have been long-”

“Mhm.”

“And my battle with nightmare intense-”

Grimm glanced around. Dream glittered unperturbed. 

“Then why didn’t you tackle Grimm?” Sparkle muttered. 

“Who?”

Sparkle gestured to him. Now that he was standing still, Grimm could clearly see Opal was a white moth, not quite as fluffy as the Radiance but pretty close. A nail was strapped to his back, along with a number of satchels over white and gold chitin armor.

“I don’t know you,” Opal said. “So, moving on. Sparkle! I’ve missed you!”

“Found him,” Grimm said as the Radiance approached. She rolled her eyes but did not reply.

“Opal,” she said. “I thought you were sealed?”

“I was!” the moth said, fluttering his wings and turning on the spot. “It was a grand struggle, but I broke free of my bonds! For eons-”

“Like two hundred years,” Mab said.

“I’ve wandered dream, searching for you all! And at long last, I’ve found you!”

“Fantastic,” Sparkle muttered.

“I’d heard terrible rumors, my Lady. Terrible,” Opal said, clutching the Radiance’s hand. She waited a few moments before pulling it free.

“Regardless. Now we can resume our plans. Grimm,” she said. “I’ll give you a bit to think of some way you are still useful to me.”

“Do I… want to?” Grimm asked.

An absolutely molten glare. “Yes.”

He shrank back, letting her drift ahead and the moths hurry after her. Sparkle doubled back to grab his hand, pulling him along.

“Earlier,” Grimm said, gently setting his panic to the side for the moment. “You said my name.”

“Nope,” Sparkle said immediately.

“You did.”

“I don’t recall, Vessel.”


	17. we've been thinking

He had to get a hold of himself. Honestly, he thought, huffing slightly. The noise went unnoticed, Sparkle having caught up with the others. He only caught bits of their conversation, mostly Opal’s loud declarations of “Of course!” and “I’d fight _myself_.” The loudest eventually went to the Radiance, whose sharp “I do _not_ have a temper!” made him wrap himself tighter in his wings. 

He gingerly reached for his magic. It felt foreign, like a shimmering muck instead of the warmth he was used to. It should function the same, though, right? He held a palm up behind his wings.

After a few moments of focus a white fire was cupped in it and he quickly dismissed it, glancing up. No one was paying him any mind. He stopped, wondering if they would notice.

“Grimm,” the Radiance immediately called. He begrudgingly resumed walking.

They reached the town. The moths split up, Sparkle and Opal heading towards a crumbled spire, while Mab stepped into what looked like a small garden, surrounded by broken fence. She crouched in the pool of dream within. The Radiance continued down the main path.

Grimm turned to followed Sparkle. He was at least the _nicest_ of the moths, and had to suppress a sigh when the Radiance called his name again. He walked back to her.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. He hated conservations that started like this. It was usually followed by a bad idea, like a grimmkin wanting to wear a tiny furnace—his heart clenched as he realized the grimmkin may not even exist anymore, they were tied to him and he’d been absent from the waking world and nightmare for so long at this point.

“Or rather, it’s been brought to my attention, I may have _developed_ ,” the Radiance stressed this. “A temper. I may have been taking it out on you.”

He didn’t comment. He was used to it, frankly; the Heart had generally been kind to him. That didn’t mean It hadn’t found an immortal Vessel an excellent source of stress relief. Some of his earlier deaths especially had been needless, born of the Heart’s rare but explosive temper.

“So I was thinking. My plan. As the Heart of Dream, I ideally need to stay within the realm.”

“But you don’t want to,” he guessed. Knew. 

“I do not. Before I beca-” she broke off. “What I mean-”

“I already know,” he said. 

She bristled, fur fluffing. “Who,” she spat. “Told-”

“No one,” he lied hastily. “I mean. No offense. But if I’d done the same, we’d just be in different positions. I’m sure you’d figure it out too.”

It took a long few moments for her fur to flatten, but it did. “I suppose,” she said. “I could travel the realms without worry, then. If I can get another to fill the role as simply the _Heart,_ —no, not you, don’t tense like that—that holds the realm together, without the bulk of the power, I could rebuild here. Build anywhere I wanted.”

“It sounds like you should have just stayed a Vessel,” Grimm said.

She laughed bitterly. “And still not have my freedom? Absolutely not. I could leave the realm to collapse. I’m choosing not to.”

“Surely the Dream Heart wasn’t-”

“I’ve seen what happens when a lantern of your god’s get lit. A single-minded obsession falls over you. Are you telling me,” the Radiance said. “There’s never been a time when you wanted to stop being a Vessel? There’s never been a time you at least wanted a break?”

He winced. “W- well, sure, but-”

“But?”

He scrambled for words and discarded them all. They all said the same thing: the Heart said no to his requests and there’d been nothing he could do about it. Finally, after far too long, he settled on, “Not for an age.”

She laughed again. “No wonder the Heart is so eager to save you.”

Dread nestled in him. Maybe she was right. But… “You’ve not exactly been better. You have your followers. It’s none of your concern if I go back to the Heart.”

“You’re right,” she said. Oh. “You were a means to an end. Finding my followers, Mab testing her spell. It could be better, though. You’re no longer connected to the Heart. To nightmare. What if you didn’t go back?”

What if he didn’t go back. He’d built everything around—for—the Heart. Even if it was searching for him, why…

Why should he go back? To being given _allowances_ that ultimately meant nothing, to enslavement? Brumm had called it that and he’d brushed it off because it’d been a little, a _little_ too close to home-

“Help me with one last thing, and I can offer you a home here,” she said, voice gentle. “At least while you sleep. Or I could try and rid you of this one all together. You’d dream like a regular bug.”

Either probably resulted in mortality. Would it be the worst, though? Almost all of his deaths were for the Ritual anyway.

“And if I don’t?”

An exasperated sigh. “I’ll summon Sparkle over to maybe talk some reason into me before I smite you.”

He couldn’t help a small laugh. “Wh- what’s your plan? Or I guess, who?”

She clapped her hands together, delighted. “I,” she singsonged. “Know gods can suppress their aura. And I think a certain one is doing so to hide from me, but I’m stubborn.”

“You are,” he said.

“Since he was so eager to take over my kingdom, I think it’s only fair the Wyrm help me reclaim it,” the Radiance said, beaming. “The easiest place for a god to hide would be in dreams. Which, unfortunately for him, is my domain.” 

It made sense. Hollow had told him the entire palace had disappeared, and you couldn’t exactly move that within the waking world without someone eventually noticing. “Hallownest,” he said.

“Ah, yes,” she said, huffing. “The eternal kingdom. Well, it will be. Just _my_ eternal kingdom.”

Hollow, he thought. Hornet. He could possibly convince the Vessel to leave with him, to join the Troupe—the Troupe, doubts swirled even more in him, could he really just leave the Heart?—but Hornet would never leave. And he sensed the Radiance would not take kindly to one of the Wyrm’s offspring.

“I’ll help you,” he said softly. He needed time to think. And one way or another the realm did need to stabilize, but if the Heart truly did weakened itself enough that the Radiance could try and take over… should he even care? Probably. “Do I get a vote now?”

She took one of his hands and patted it, letting out a very long sigh. Finally she said, “I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brumm's comment is what actually made me interested in the Grimm Troupe & that the Heart is its own separate entity, a god off just being kind of the worst.


	18. we've lost so much already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hornet is done with this Vessel's bullshit.

The Radiance proceeded to not need his help, leaving him suspicious that his “help” would fall more along the lines of “leave for the Wyrm to destroy if the rest need to bail.” Which wasn’t, he supposed, the worst. He could _maybe_ convince the Wyrm to not do so, switch sides again. Wow, he really missed just being with the Troupe. He sighed.

They had eventually left the town, laden with books and gizmos and the goal of a canyon. One that took them what felt like ages to reach, himself, Sparkle, and Opal having to stop and sleep five times. 

“It would be fewer,” Opal had snapped the fourth time. “If you’d let us sleep for longer!”

“Children,” the Radiance said wearily as him and Mab began arguing.

The canyon proved… odd. When he was at its edge it spanned to the horizon, but when he was a few steps back it was hardly visible. He gingerly stepped closer again.

It reached to the horizon and was filled with a translucent, glittery mist, threads of golden light sifting through it like a sandy, tiered river. And way, way down, to the point he couldn’t even see it, he felt a familiar tug of nightmare. Was that supposed to be there? He felt the answer was no.

“All dreams lead to dreams,” the Radiance said. “If you have the patience, you can walk to them.”

She scooped some of the mist out, and pulled a single piece of white chitin from her fur. “But I should be able to find anyone in my realm.”

She handed the mist to Mab, and she, the Radiance and Sparkle moved to sit around it. They shut their eyes, the Radiance crushing the piece of the chitin to a powder and sprinkling it into the mist. It began to glow with a soft, golden light. 

* * *

None of them had moved for a while now, Opal pacing between them and him.

“In that case,” Grimm said, Opal jumping a bit. “I’m going to catch up on sleep.”

Opal smoothed his fur down, glaring at him but not saying anything. Cool. He took that as an “okay,” curling up and shutting his eyes. 

The pull of the dream realm was like a heavy blanket over him, but without the Radiance’s active interference he found himself able to claw himself through it. He had to at least speak to Brumm, and the others, make sure the Troupe was out of Hallownest, though surely they’d moved on by now-

He abruptly awoke to darkness and thin, musty air. He was vaguely aware of being suspended, though right-side up; he gave an experimental wiggle and metal rattled. He tried to teleport and white runes prevented him from doing so, the light briefly revealing red cloth and dark chains. He let out a loud sigh. _Hornet._

The air was uncomfortable, both because it was thin and because of something odd. Between this and everything else, he hazarded he was in the Black Egg. Was the odd presence Void? If it was, it must be diluted, probably from the time the Egg had been left open. He did not, he thought with another wiggle, have time for this. He forced himself to take a steadying breath. Another.

He doubted he was properly sealed. He shut his eyes, focusing on the runes scribed onto the cloth. Troupe ones, which meant he knew them inside out, which meant—there. He cut through one with a spark of magic and the rest disappeared. He pictured where his tent had been and teleported.

He expected to appear in an empty patch of dirt. Instead, he found himself surrounded by the blessedly gaudy decor that made up his room. The lanterns weren’t lit, but a small amount of light filtered through from the main tent. He ran a hand along the nearby dresser and it came up dusty. That was probably a bad sign.

Grimm gingerly stepped into the main tent. The light came from two lanterns, the rest of the room now clearly used for storage in the Ritual’s absence. A flash of white caught his eye.

A mirror, the white being him. His wings had faded entirely, his red shell now a light grey. His eyes still burned but they were orange, and—okay, maybe Hornet had had good reason to be concerned. He hugged himself and took another steadying breath before venturing outside.

Most of the tents were gone, the central caravan surrounded by only three tents besides his own. A fire flickered with embers. It took him a minute to place what felt so, so wrong: there was no cackling from grimmkin.

Hornet stepped out of a tent. 

“You,” she croaked, pointing her needle at him. “Hollow left because of _you_.”

He tried to ask “What?” but his voice was dusty from disuse. She dropped into a fighting stance and he held his hands up. “No,” she snarled. “I agreed to leave you in the Egg.”

He cleared his throat. “Hornet-”

“No! I don’t want to hear your reasons, or your excuses, or your _plans_.”

Motion from another tent, and Brumm stepped out. Stopped. Nearly dropped the mug he was carrying.

“Brumm-”

“We had a deal!” Hornet snapped. 

“Brumm,” Grimm said, managing to raise his voice a bit. “You need to leave Hallownest.”

“And why,” Hornet asked. “Does he need to do that?”

“You need to, too,” he said. “Please. She-”

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when her needle buried itself in his shoulder. Through, really, running through his wing as well. “Don’t,” he managed to croak as Brumm took a step forward. 

“I knew it,” Hornet hissed. “I _knew_ I should have sealed you myself.”

“Please, Hornet. Listen. I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t do anything?”

“I- yes! I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, _maybe_ ,” Hornet’s voice broke a bit as she yelled. “That’s the problem! Brumm told me to trust you! I _let_ myself trust you! It’s been a year, Grimm, and you come back with _she’s coming_? That’s what you were going to say, right?”

He wished she’d just stabbed him again. “I…”

“Answer me!”

“Yes,” he croaked.

“And the Nightmare Heart?”

He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know. I- I haven’t spoken to It. S- She’s coming after she finds the Wyrm.”

Hornet pulled her needle back and he hissed, the wound healing in a bright flash of white. “What? _Why?_ ”

“R- Realm bullshit?”

She put her needle away and put her hands together. Took a big, big breath. Walked over to him. “Grimm.”

“Hornet.”

“Grimm—no. Come closer.”

He hesitated, then crouched a bit. She grabbed his wings and pulled him closer. “Listen to me. Very, very carefully.”

He nodded.

“My deal with Brumm was that I wouldn’t kill you if you stayed in the Egg. I really, really want to kill you—shush. I know you come back. I’m still excited to test how many times I have to kill you to keep you dead. But I am willing to amend my deal. You are going to go with the Radiance to find the Wyrm. When you do so, you will, by any means necessary, get him here. To Hallownest. To Dirtmouth, specifically.”

“H- how-”

“By any. Means. Necessary.”

“But the Radiance-”

“Ssshh. You work for me now. Get the Wyrm here, so I may speak with him about my plans of _properly_ dealing with her. Then, you and I are going to go to the Abyss, so you can apologize to Hollow for making them _worry about all this again_. Understand?”

Wow. Okay. That was. A lot. A lot could go wrong with that. “That’s two gods you’re asking me to piss off.”

“Telling you to piss off. And good. Maybe you’ll grow a spine. Understand?”

Brumm snorted and Grimm gave him a withering look before sighing again. “Yes. Fine—wait, the Abyss?”

“No questions. Go the fuck to sleep, Grimm, and when you next wake up I better be able to punch my father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today on: Did I just rewrite this fic or do I keep going with whatever this is doing. Both?? Who knows. B')


	19. we're here, but are you?

Grimm took a step back, raising his arms. “What happened to Hollow?” he croaked.

“They left,” Hornet said. “Th- their duty was to stop the Radiance, and I think they thought Ghost could help.”

So Ghost was alive, the tiniest sliver of joy as guilt washed over him. “I never meant-”

“Shut up,” Hornet snapped. “I know that. You are a frustratingly decent bug.”

Grimm did not know what to say to that. He opened his mouth, closed it, and Hornet continued. “Regardless, I don’t think Ghost is going to let them fight. They argued. I think. Ghost broke their nail.”

“That’s good,” he finally managed.

“Go get my father.”

“I will,” he croaked. “But I need to speak to Brumm first.”

Hornet sighed, and he took that as the most he’d get from her. He hurried over to where Brumm still stood, gripping his mug with enough force that the clay was beginning to crack. 

“Brumm,” he said, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. Everything else may be falling apart around him, but Brumm remained. 

Except Brumm flinched at his name, and Grimm found himself shrinking a bit. More so when he jerked his head towards the tent before stepping inside. Grimm hesitated a moment before following. The interior was sparse, a bed, nightstand with a stack of books, two hanging lamps, and a chest he knew contained assorted knickknacks and instruments, all the familiar red and black color scheme. 

“Grimm,” Brumm said, almost too soft to hear. “It’s been a year since you last woke up.”

A year. _A year._ It had felt less when Hornet had said it, somehow. It certainly hadn’t felt it, odd as time passed in the realms. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Brumm shut his eyes and let out a long sigh. “You didn’t remember me, last time you were awake.”

He remembered… trying to wake up. After that was a fog, patchy until… Opal? A little sooner? He had less to remember and somehow that made it harder. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Brumm opened his eyes. “Sit,” he said, nodding at the bed. Grimm gingerly did so, watching in silence as Brumm fished out a bottle of wine and two goblets from the nightstand; it took all of Grimm’s self control to not gulp the contents of the one given to him, so parched was his throat. Brumm sat next to him, a space between them that usually wasn’t there. 

“Is anyone else left?” Grimm finally asked.

“Divine,” Brumm replied. “She’s poorly eavesdropping.” 

A soft “Oh” at the same time Divine gave a louder one. A mass he hadn’t noticed shifted outside the tent, and Divine entered. Brumm retrieved a third goblet.

“Bugs were getting restless,” Divine said. “And then the grimmkin disappeared. We tried, but…”

“It’s fine,” Grimm mumbled. The Troupe could always be rebuilt, though perhaps a bit plainer. 

“It’s _not,_ though,” Brumm said. Grimm blinked. “Tell me, honestly. Do you have a plan?”

He wished he’d just stabbed him. “I…”

“Grimm.”

“No.”

A painful quiet fell between them, broken only by more wine being poured. Finally, he said, “I just-”

He broke off at Brumm’s glare, withering. Brumm was never _angry_ with him. Disappointed. Realizing he was, that Grimm had let him down, hurt more than he’d ever expected it to. Divine raised a hand and murmured something to him, and after a long moment Brumm nodded at him. 

Grimm slumped. “What do I do? L- look at me.”

“It really is not your style, darling,” Divine said.

“Something. Anything,” Brumm said. “Grimm. You know we’d do anything for you. But we can’t follow you into the dream realm. You have to help yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t stuck with an angry dream goddess and her three followers,” Grimm snapped.

Brumm looked into his goblet with a small sigh, shoulders tense, and Grimm immediately regretted his words. “Brumm-”

“You’re right,” Brumm said. “It is. But we’re trying so hard to protect you from what we can—Hornet wanted to kill you. And keep killing you. And we didn’t—we _don’t_ —know if you were infected or not. If you… if you were gone.”

Grimm pressed himself against Brumm, who tensed further and took a gulp of air.

“I’m sorry,” Grimm murmured. 

“I know you are,” Brumm gulped, leaning into him.

Divine pulled them both into a crushing hug, wine spilling on her shell as they struggled to keep a hold of their goblets. “I was feeling left out,” she admitted, squishing Grimm’s cheeks before sitting him back down. He managed a small laugh.

“I…” Grimm said. He gingerly touched his chest. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I’m not the Nightmare Heart’s Vessel. I’m not the Radiance’s.”

Divine gestured to all of him.

“I think that’s just a side effect of having briefly been hers, and now being stuck in the Dream Realm. Which has Nightmare leaking into it.” Or pooling in it.

“Is that a bad thing?” Brumm asked.

“If the Dream Realm become unstable? Yes. I think Sparkle-”

“Sparkle?”

“One of her followers. I think he was saying the Heart spending energy searching for me would eventually cause the Nightmare Realm to become unstable as well.”

Grimm sighed, rubbing his temples. Was that why the Heart wanted the Dream Realm? To ensure both stayed stable? Even so, he felt at least a _little_ bit of hubris was involved. It’d told him the realms were separated because together they caused too much discord; but that said they still needed each other, to push and pull and ensure they remained balanced.

That wasn’t his problem. Sure, if the Radiance won she’d probably kill or seal the Heart—which for all Its faults hurt to think about—and every creatures sleep would be affected, and anything sealed in either realm might escape, and it had sort of sounded like the Radiance intended to bring dream to the waking realm, which _was_ possible but definitely not ideal. 

So it… it was his problem. Brumm and Hornet were right. He had to at least try and do something; all this trying to save himself was hurting bugs he cared about, had made Hollow feel they had to handle it themselves. If he truly died… It’d been a concept, once. He couldn’t remember if he’d been afraid of it before, but he was now.

“I have to go back,” he mumbled, swallowed that fear down. He’d been okay with the Radiance taking immortality from him, hadn’t he? “To the Heart.”

Brumm pressed against him at the same time a heaviness began to wash over him. “I know I said anything. But if you don’t want-”

“I’m supposed—I _want_ —to keep you two safe. I need to at least talk to It.”

It was possible the Radiance wouldn’t find the Wyrm, or wouldn’t be able to contain him. And if she did, well, that took care of the Dream Realm. But not the Radiance. If the Wyrm took care of her, then he had to deal with an angry Wyrm. He pulled at his face. Then, somehow, get to the Heart and hope It listened to him.

“You need to leave Hallownest. If Hornet insist I stay here, don’t argue with her. I’ll find you later,” he said. He struggled to keep his eyes open, hissing in annoyance.

Brumm and Divine exchanged glances. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he managed, before slumping against Brumm and falling asleep.

* * *

“Good morning,” the Radiance said. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve found our Wyrm.”


	20. waiting

The Radiance teleported them a portion of the distance, the rest of the journey rather quiet. The shimmering white and gold of the realm began to bleed a light red, Sparkle nervously picking at tufts of his fur. 

“Stop,” she then snapped, pulling his hand away. 

Ice began to frost the ground as walked, until frozen clouds of dream sat in glimmering spires. Stark against the pastels of the realm were broken pieces of wood and metal, a green banner hung limp from a broken pole and torn to shreds. They gingerly picked their way through.

“Oh,” Grimm said. He had ducked under a wooden beam only to come face-to-face with an ice encrusted roach, a wing snapped off and sluggishly bleeding hemolymph. Beyond this, more bugs were frozen in place and run through by spears of ice, features distorted by frostbite. He counted at least fifteen. Towering above it all, marble frosted and refracting rainbows, was the White Palace. Pillars of ice erupting through shattered windows, glass buried in snow and glinting gold and red.

“A shame they couldn’t kill him for us,” Mab said, pushing past him. Sparkle grabbed his arm and tugged him along.

“This is a good sign, though,” Opal said. He pried a crossbow out a frozen beetle’s hands. “They thought they had a chance.”

They approached the Palace. The doors were ajar, the seals Grimm had expected absent. Surely the Wyrm would not leave himself unprotected? 

The Radiance stopped, tilting her head and looking over the marble. “Something’s wrong,” she said softly.

“So we shouldn’t go in there,” Grimm said, as Opal did just that.

A long pause, broke by Sparkle asking, “Do you think he’s dead?”

“I’m okay!” Opal called. “It’s fine. Just slippery.”

Nothing happened when they entered as well, the floor of the entryway indeed slick with ice, tinted darker than what was outside. Light shone in from the dream realm and cast everything in a soft, if eerie glow. Buzzsaws were frozen in place, emitting the faintest of whirrs. Opal was poking one of them, Sparkle pulling at his face before making his way over and shooing him away.

“I want to punch it,” Opal whined. 

“Contain yourself,” Sparkle muttered.

Their footsteps made no noise as they pressed on, following the entryway down to the furthest door. This one was shut and frozen over, albeit hastily as it was of varying thickness and spotted gray. The Radiance gingerly placed a hand on it and quickly pulled it back, stepping away from the door; Opal slammed his spear into the groove and tried to turn it, cursing when his grip slipped. 

“Grimm,” the Radiance said. “Melt it.”

“You were just-”

“Melt it.”

He sighed, stepping up next to Opal and placing his hands on the ice. It almost felt like touching air, even when he sank his claws into it and called white fire to them. After a few minutes some of the ice gave way, sloshing onto the ground.

“Hm,” was all the Radiance said. Opal pried the door open and they stepped inside. 

The throne room was dark, despite the fact Grimm was quite certain there were windows along the walls. The light behind them seemed dimmer, and it took him a minute to summon the courage to summon some fire again, cupping it in a palm.

Pain exploded in his chest; in the embers of his spell, he looked down to see a pitch-black shard run through him.

He was getting so sick of dying.

He collapsed.

* * *

Sparkle saw _something_ move in the inky darkness. Heard the wet crunch of Grimm’s carapace being punctured, the Vessel letting out only the softest “ah” before he fell. Just visible in the fading light of Grimm’s spell, scratched into the ice and slicked with hemolymph next to his body, was the word _RUN_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year's everyone!
> 
> i'll probably rewrite this later but i need to post before i change what happens in this chapter _again_ and get no where.


	21. beyond, below

Bats roosted nearby, shifting nervously and chattering softly to one another. Rivulets of dream threaded their way down smoking stone to pool in wobbly clouds. The one it had brought in itself was now thrice its original size, streaked red with nightmare. The barrier between the realms was opaque in its vision, allowing it to see through at last.

And it saw nothing, only rolling clouds of dream and growing pillars of nightmare. Pillars that, even when it threw its sight through them, showed nothing. Nothing.

The Heart was tired. In the past several millennia, it had been exasperated, amused, furious, concerned—but never tired. Now, weariness and melancholy threatened to engulf it. It could not hold the dream realm back, because it had given so much in its search of Grimm. It could not give up said search, because that would be giving up on Grimm. It could not continue said search, because there had been not a trace of him in so long. Of course there wouldn’t be, it thought, curling its tendrils in on itself in a makeshift blanket. Grimm hated it, as he should. It had been so certain Grimm would never be free of it, and now he was, and why, it thought, would he ever come back? 

If he even could. He could be dead, wasting away in dream or trapped as a ghost. 

“… Lord?” a bat asked tentatively. A bat it did not know the name of, because it did not care, and that—was that not its problem? It did not care, or finally did and did little to show it. It unfurled its tendrils and turned molten eyes to the bat.

The bat immediately tensed. Right. Only Grimm—had—responded to its existence with amused fondness. _Yes,_ it said.

“What do we do now?”

Ah. What _did_ they do now? It needed to feed, to regain its strength and repel the dream realm. It wanted Grimm back. The bats and firespawn and various other creatures of the realm needed their god to pull itself together. It wanted to cry. It could make a new vessel, but it would not be Grimm, and the process would weaken it further. 

It could, it supposed, attempt to project _itself_ into the waking world. It still did not know how its sister managed a proper, moving form. Feed itself. 

It paused to ruminate over how ridiculous the incredulous thought of _feed itself_ was. It was a god. It’d fed on the realm alone for eons, and projected its thoughts into Grimm’s countless times. It shut its eyes and focused.

Focused.

Absolutely nothing happened. This was _infuriating_. It supposed it could send the bats, but they wouldn’t know what to do. It curled in on itself again.

“… Lord?”

 _I’m thinking,_ it snapped, reaching out with its mind to the fringes of the realm as it scoured for nightmare to feed on. There were other realms, but these were want to house gods and it could not tackle a territorial god now.

Something inside it—hurt. It shook itself, pulsing faster and pushing back against dream. Pools remained, rivulets dried up, and it mourned.

* * *

The doors slammed shut, the last of the light fading away. The Radiance, her breathing thunderously loud and quick, summoned a barrier of dream that disappeared after only a few moments. The sharp sing of teleportation magic was promptly muffled by the overwhelming presence of nothing, and her breathing picked up further. Sparkle reached for his own magic, managing only the faintest glimmer in his palms before it too was snuffed out. 

“No!” the Radiance howled. At the same time he felt a presence _shift_ all around him, incomprehensibly large, and let out a scream that sounded like a thousand voices coalesced into one that caused stone of the palace to quake. Marble crumbled around them and the floor gave out.

“Sparkle!” He heard him nearby and flinched as something most certainly _not_ Opal, cold and suffocating, wrapped around him. He clawed at it and it did not give and everything went dark.

* * *

When Sparkle woke, it was still dark, his soft but building breath loud in his ears. He dug his claws into the rubble and squeezed his eyes shut for one, five, ten seconds. Everything was the same when he opened them again.

“Opal?” he called. He was met with silence and his own panic.

A wing was pinned, and after a few minutes of scrabbling, cursing, and pausing every so often in response to _nothing_ he managed to pull it free, tumbling down the pile he’d been perched on. Pain radiated through him as he laid there, wing folded awkwardly under him. He got to his feet, wincing. He reached for his healing magic and nothing came. 

There was nothing. No flight, no magic, no light, no friends, no Radiance, despair crashing through him. Was he even in the palace proper, or something dug beneath it? It felt nothing of dream or even nightmare, just absence. He sank to the ground and heaved a sob.

* * *

Mab woke, the ground quite soft and the air quite dark. She gingerly flitted her wings and minute stone was scattered. She then stilled, straining her senses and wondering if she were with anyone.

A soft “Fuck” was her answer, quite close. Beneath her. Ah, of course. The softness was the Radiance, though she felt she could be forgiven for not immediately knowing this given the Radiance was, currently, not radiant at all. Still, it gave her the confidence to flutter into the very still air.

“My Lady?” she called. A grunt, and a flicker of light danced across her form. She managed to hold it for a few seconds before it faded.

“Mab,” she then said, voice soft. “Opal? Sparkle?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” she said. “I might just be us.” 

“Grimm?”

“Does it matter?” she said testily. He’d been frustratingly resilient to her spell, which meant it would have never worked on the Wyrm, which meant she’d been wrong and she hated! Being! Wrong! 

And then he’d died with no fanfare. Who cared where his body ended up?

A shuddering breath, another dance of light, and then, “I suppose not. Where are we?”

“Under the palace, I guess,” she replied. She heard rubble shift and the fluttering of wings. 

“Fuck,” the Radiance said again. Her wing beats, above her, and a long stretch of silence before another, distant, “Fuck.”

White glimmered below her, and a whoosh of air told her the Radiance had dropped nearby. It did not reveal much, dark floors and debris, then even less when it solidified into two white eyes that looked up at them and let out a horrible scream.

* * *

Opal shoved the rubble off of him, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder as he clambered to his feet. “Sparkle?” he called. “Mab?”

A concerning nothingness. He really hoped Sparkle wasn’t alone, because he did not handle that well. 

First things first. He felt… fine. Some bruises, maybe something pulled in his shoulder, and the base of a wing was sore but he could flutter them. It was dark, and he dug through the various pouches on his armor until he found his jar of sunstones. A quick shake and the piles of debris around him were lit in a cheery glow. 

No one and nothing reacted, which was a bit of a letdown but not the worst. He carefully slid down the rubble he’d awoken on and onto the horribly cold floor. He held his light up.

Partially buried from the collapse was Grimm—a dumb, edgy name that was at least easy to remember when attached to “nightmare vessel”—hemolymph glimmering off his shell and pooling beneath him, the shard still run through him. “Of course,” Opal muttered. “I get the corpse.”

Which wasn’t fair of him. Opal hooked the jar on a part of his armor and picked his way over. Moving rubble did not cause noise, or vibrations, and it was an unsettling few minutes he spent digging Grimm free. The least he could do, he figured, was try and bring him with him. When they got out—because they would!—of whatever weird hellhole they’d fallen in to, he could chuck his body into the nightmare realm with a “sorry!” note or something. Or bury him somewhere in dream. Just—something. 

He pulled the shard out. It made a horrible wet noise, echoed by the wet cough Grimm made. A hand shot out and he dug claws into his fur, but there wasn’t enough strength in it to scratch. Opal shoved his shock over him being alive aside and said, “I have bandages. Just—no. Do not do that.”

Grimm had let go and slumped forward. His breathing was growing erratic and he scrabbled for something in his cloak. A box clattered to the floor and he clawed at it.

“Relax,” Opal said, which he realized was a dumb thing to say even before the glare he got. “Grimm. Just. Deep breathes.”

He picked up the box and opened it. Inside was some sort of charm, carved to resemble Grimm’s face. He took it out and offered it to Grimm, who immediately slapped it onto a part of his armor. 

The strangest sensation he’d ever felt—and Opal had felt many—washed through him, and then to make the whole thing stranger a grubling with little threads for wings appeared in a poof of smoke, curled up on the ground. _Am I. A father??_ Opal thought dumbly as it raised its head and let out a rather cute “Weh!”

That turned into a cry as Grimm pulled it towards him. His claws broke through its softer shell, scarlet and dream flickering over his own.

Then his grip went slack and he let out a rattling breath. The grubling wormed its way free and loft into the air with another “Weh!” Opal stared at it, realized he was getting _extremely_ distracted, and fumbled for bandages. Pointless ones, he felt, even as he started to unwrap a roll. 

A spark of scarlet and a shimmer of color, like oil in water, and Grimm’s ghost formed. He was bright red again, eyes black save for the faintest embers. He bared his teeth, then shook himself, then sighed.

 _Fuck,_ Grimm did not quite speak, though Opal definitely heard and felt a wash of bitterness from him. The grubling squeaked. 

Grimm’s gaze flickered over to it, then back to Opal. _Remove the charm. It couldn’t help me._

Opal gingerly did so, and the grubling disappeared in another cloud. Hesitated, the tucked it and the bandages into a pouch. Nothingness pressed in around them, threatening the edges of their light.

 _And to think,_ Grimm said, form wobbling. _I didn’t consider Ghost a threat._

A weird, bubbling noise that Opal eventually placed as a laugh. _And they killed me! For real! Ghost!_

And then, softer, laced with sorrow even as he continued to laugh, _Why?_

Opal had no idea who Ghost was, though he could guess it was whoever or whatever had attacked them. “I don’t know,” he said carefully. “But we will get out.”

Grimm’s form wobbled more as he continued to laugh, then sob, then laugh again. “You need a minute,” Opal hazarded.

 _Not at all!_ Grimm said, in the tone of someone who needed a solid century. _Let’s go!_

Opal reached for Grimm’s body and the ghost bared his teeth. _Don’t bother,_ he said.

“Surely you don’t want _here_ to be your ghost’s anchor point,” Opal said. 

Anxiety cut through what he could best describe as delirium rolling off of Grimm. _… No,_ he agreed. Opal picked his body up, doing his best to ignore the general awful feeling of it, and they set off.

Eventually the piles of debris ended, revealing some sort of cavern that branched off into numerous tunnels. He edges of the nearest tunnel looking like they were dug open with the largest claws he’d ever said. “Wyrm?”

 _Wyrm tunnels are smooth,_ Grimm said. _And have a more consistent shape._

“Oh,” Opal said. Then, brightly, “Great! So it’s something else.”

_Ghost._

“And what is this Ghost character?”

A flicker of fear, unnerving given Grimm was well—dead. Not much could hurt him anymore, and Opal himself had the only remaining dreamnail he knew of. _I don’t know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> opal: ya yall have magic but i have some sick ass rocks.


End file.
